HOES  FROM  THE  PAST 


MARY  NORGOTT  BRYAN 


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Echoes  from  the  Past 

By 

Mary  Norcott  Bryan 


d   JYH^jiMiAyfli  , 


ECHOES  FROM  THE  PAST 

Dedicated  to  the  Memory  of  my  Mother. 

''But  might  I  choose  of  all  the  loved  and  lost  ones, 
Whose  going  Home  has  cost  me  bitter  tears, 
It  would  be  thy  face,  oh !  gentle,  loving  Mother, 
So  missed,  so  longed  for,  through  these  empty  years". 

Feeling  that  whatever  is  good  in  my  life,  or  the  lives 
of  my  children,  is  due  to  my  Mother's  love  and  prayers, 
I  think  it  not  unwise  to  write  you  a  short  account  of  her 
life. 

She  prayed  three  times  a  day.  Always  at  twilight 
was  her  voice  lifted  up  to  God  for  blessings  on  her  loved 
ones. 

I  am  especially  anxious  for  my  children  to  remember 
their  grandmother,  the  essence  of  whose  saintly  life  still 
lingers  over  us,  and  helps  us  along  in  this  journey  to  the 
future — 


MARY  NORCOTT  BRYAN 


New  Berne,  North  Carolina 
May  1st,  1921 


LETTER  I 
To  my  dear  children: 

General  John  Simpson  came  from  Boston  when  a 
young  man  and  settled  in  Pitt  County.  He  married  Eliza- 
beth Hardee,  a  neighbor.  His  grand-father  was  the  cele- 
brated Roger  Clapp,  who  came  to  Boston  from  England 
in  1633.  Roger  was  a  great  man.  He  was  a  Governor  of 
Castle  WilHam  in  Boston,  and  a  zealous  patriot.  His 
children's  names  were  a  httle  peculiar  ''Wait,"  ''Wait- 
Still,"  "Desire,"  "Experience,"  "Hope,"  "Unite,"  "Sup- 
ply," "Elizabeth,"  "Preserved". 

General  John  Simpson,  was  considered  the  most 
prominent  man  in  Eastern  Carolina  during  Colonial 
times.  His  life  and  history  are  on  record.  He  lived 
on  a  plantation  six  miles  from  Greenville,  which  he  named 
"Chatham."  He  was  a  Churchman.  After  the  Revolu- 
tionary War  the  Episcopal  Church  became  very  unpopu- 
lar, because  it  was  the  Church  of  England. 

Gen'l  Samuel  Simpson  son  of  Gen'l  John  Simpson 
was  married  four  times  yet  he  had  only  twenty  years  of 
married  life.  His  first  wife  was  named  Penelope  Mcllvane 
and  she  was  the  mother  of  Mary  Nixon  Simpson.  She 
was  baptised  by  Bishop  Ravenscoft,  for  whom  your 
Father  is  named. 

Rev.  William  Phillips  Biddle,  was  a  Baptist  Minister 
from  Princess  Anne  County,  Virginia.  While  traveling 
through  the  country  when  quite  a  young  man,  he  met 
my  grandmother,  Mary  Nixon  Simpson,  and  they  were 
married  in  1810,  when  she  was  only  sixteen  years  old. 
She  was  the  only  living  child  of  General  Samuel  Simpson, 
and  when  she  married  he  made  it  a  condition  that  she 
live  near  him. 

Rev.  Wilham  P.  Biddle  when  a  young  man  made  a 
will.     I  copy  a  portion  of  it  as  follows: 

"I  will  that  Isabel,  Owen  and  LilHe  be  made  and  set 
free.  Isabel  belonged  to  my  Grandfather,  and  lived  with 
him  a  faithful  servant  'till  his  death.  Owen  has  been  a 
diligent  and  faithful  servant  to  me,  and  greatly  assisted 
me  in  my  business.  Lillie  nursed  me  and  belonged  to  my 
parents.  I  desire  her  to  be  free.  Also  at  the  end  of  five 
years  I  desire  Eliza  to  be  free.  There  are  few  such 
servants  for  faithfulness  and  merit.  I  wish  all  my  other 
servants  to  be  hired  out  for  ten  years,  at  which  time  I 
will  that  all  shall  be  free. 


"1  wish  that  they  may  be  tendered  to  the  Coloniza- 
tion Society  of  Virginia.  They  shall  be  settled  in  the 
most  eligible  portion  of  Africa,  or  in  the  South  West  of 
our  own  continent.  I  will  that  all  that  are  twenty-one 
years  of  age  shall  receive  six  months  education". 

This  will  was  written  in  1820,  and  was  rather  remark- 
able, as  he  had  a  plantation  with  many  negroes  at  that 
time,  and  the  question  of  slavery  was  just  being  agitated. 

My  mother  was  born  in  New  Berne  in  a  comfortable 
brick  residence  on  Craven  Street  in  August  1812.  This 
was  the  year  of  our  second  war  with  England.  The 
family  had  moved  temporarily  from  Hermitage  Planta- 
tion. 

So  far  as  I  know  my  dear  mjother's  childhood  was 
uneventful;  passed  in  a  pleasant  country  home  with  many 
happy  gambols  under  the  shade  trees,  with  her  sisters 
and  brothers.  She  was  away  from  home  at  school  only 
one  year,  but  her  parents  always  employed  a  governess. 
Her  thirst  for  knowledge  was  great,  and  especially  was 
she  versed  in  the  Bible. 

Gen'l.  Samuel  Simpson  was  very  much  attached  to 
my  mother,  whom  he  called  ''Sally",  and  she  spent  many 
weeks  at  his  Fort  Barnwell  home.  At  that  time  her 
father.  Rev.  William  P.  Biddle,  had  unwisely  involved 
himself  in  debt  by  buying  much  land,  and  was  unable  to 
finish  the  education  of  his  two  oldest  children,  Sam  and 
Sally. 

Her  grandfather,  Gen'l.  Simpson,  offered  to  educate 
one,  and  my  mother,  with  her  usual  unselfishness,  gave 
way  to  her  brother,  who  went  to  Chapel  Hill,  and  gradu- 
ated there  in  1832. 

One  of  her  great  pleasures  was  going  to  ''Associations" 
with  her  father,  sometimes  on  her  fleet  Arabian  mare, 
given  her  by  the  old  General,  or  seated  beside  him  in  an 
old  fashioned  gig.  I  well  remember  this  old  gig  going 
to  ruin  behind  the  carriage  house  at  "Hermitage",  and 
how  we  children  enjoyed  playing  in  it. 

Elder  Biddle  had  strict  ideas  of  rearing  children — so 
different  from  his  gentle,  kindly  wife.  He  considered  it 
well  to  discipline  them,  and  on  several  occasions  my 
dear  mother  would  be  all  ready  to  go  to  one  of  these  "Big 
Meetings",  her  capes,  which  capable  hands  had  been 
weeks  in  embroidering,  done  up,  with  ruffles  and  collars, 
and  put  into  the  portmanteau,  when  her  father  would 
say  he  had  reconsidered — she  must  remain  at  home. 


She  was  fond  of  dress,  and  always  had  lovely  taste. 
Once  she  wanted  a  bonnet  which  cost  $16.00.  Gen'l 
Simpson,  from  whom  she  must  have  imbibed  some  of  these 
ideas  told  her  he  would  give  her  the  money  if  she  would 
make  him  a  set  of  shirts — and  a  set  of  shirts  in  those 
days  were  very  different  from  the  ones  made  in  these 
days.  Every  thread  had  to  be  pulled,  and  every  stitch 
was  taken  by  her  hands.  He  was  a  handsome  old  man, 
with  bright  black  eyes,  and  until  the  day  of  his  death 
wore  a  cue  and  knee  breeches,  silver  buckles  and  silk 
stockings.  He  had  his  sloops  that  sailed  regularly  to 
Boston,  and  I  have  a  number  of  memoranda  in  which 
fine  clothes  and  fine  underwear,  etc.  were  ordered,  along 
with  groceries. 

LETTER  II 

My  mother  was  twenty-one  years  old  when  she  married 
my  father,  John  Norcott,  in  1834.  He  was  a  widower 
with  one  son,  Joe.  He  took  his  bride  to  Greenville, 
Pitt  Countj^,  and  there  in  our  comfortable  home,  seven 
years  after  their  marriage,  I  was  born.  There  was  great 
rejoicing  at  my  birth,  but  much  disappointment  at  the 
sex.  I  had  been  long  desired,  and  my  father  thought  a 
son  of  my  mother's  would  be  something  very  extra. 

When  I  was  three  weeks  old  I  was  taken  very  ill, 
and  the  nevv^  found  treasure  was  nursed  almost  to  the 
loss  of  my  mother's  life.  She  was  always  delicate. 
I  never  remember  her  except  as  an  invalid. 

The  question  of  providing  nourishment  was  a  serious 
one,  and  every  day  the  carriage  was  brought  out  and 
John  sent  into  the  country  seven  miles  to  a  friend's  farm, 
who  loaned  a  wet  nurse.  Finally  Amy,  one  of  our  own 
servants,  was  brought  up  from  ''Woodlawn'',  our  planta- 
tion half  way  between  Greenville  and  Washington,  bring- 
ing her  baby  ''Hannah"  with  her.  Amy  was  never 
allowed  to  do  any  farm  work  after  this,  and  Hannah  was 
reared  in  the  house  and  made  a  pet  of.  I  lived  very 
happily  in  Greenville  the  earlier  years  of  my  life.  Until 
I  was  twelve  years  old  I  had  a  grown  nurse,  ''Maria", 
"Mamy  Ria"  I  always  called  her.  She  had  a  daughter 
"Rose'',  whom  she  would  take  behind  the  chicken-coop, 
and  beat  when  she  got  mad,  and  I  was  in  perfect  agony 
until  it  was  over.  Maria  and  Hollon  were  sisters,  and 
were  most  faithful,  capable  servants.  We  took  first  one 
and  then  the  other  on  our  trips. 

I  was  very  delicate  the  first  seven  years  of  my  life, 


4 

s^BLud  during  stormy  days,  and  sometimes  days  of  sunshine, 
>S  I  was  confined  to  the  house.  Many  a  book  of  pictures 
iy^^  have  I  literally  worn  out.  Especiallj^  do  I  remember 
^©  Dickens  'Tive  Sisters  of  York''. 


CO 


^        ''Ma  was  a  handsome  woman,  five  feet  seven  inches 

s^in  height,  very  dignified  and  courteous  in  her  bearing. 

She  had  blue  eyes,  a  straight  nose,  and  an  abundance  of 

x^  auburn  hair.     Her  family  had  this  color  of  hair,  and 

0^  when  they  were  children  were  called  ''The  Woodpecker's 

>*s  Nest".     She  dressed  with  beautiful  taste,  and  entertained 

.  wdth  lavish  hand,  had  an  abundance  of  this  v/orld's  goods, 

♦  and  gave  generously. 

Our  home  in  Greenville  was  situated  on  a  large 
square  of  ground,  and  to  my  childish  eyes  it  was  a  para- 
dise. It  was  an  old  fashioned  comfortable  house,  with  a 
double  piazza  in  front,  and  a  large  parlor  on  one  side, 
over-looking  a  flower  garden,  with  a  big  tree  in  the  middle, 
and  flowers  of  all  kinds  around.  The  vegetable  garden 
occupied  almost  a  square,  and  was  laid  out  in  beds 
bordered  with  currant  and  berry  bushes  and  fruit  trees. 

Up  in  the  garret  was  a  barrel  holding  a  most  wonderful 
"Wedding  Tree",  made  of  swiss  and  tinsel.  I  have  never 
seen  anything  I  thought  so  fine.  This  was  on  the  table 
at  different  weddings,  and  occasionally  I  was  allowed  to 
see  it. 

My  first  sorrow  was  the  death  of  a  red  bird  Joe 
Norcott  had  given  me.  Joe  was  much  older  than  I  was; 
he  made  a  great  pet  of  me,  and  was  always  giving  me 
presents.  He  gave  me  a  large  black  doll.  Our  good  cook, 
Rachel,  would  get  drunk  occasionally.  Once  when  she 
was  in  that  condition  the  nurse  placed  the  doll  in  the  walk 
between  the  kitchen  and  the  house,  and  you  never  heard 
such  screaming  and  yelling  w^hen  the  old  woman  saw  it. 
She  thought  the  devil  had  her  for  sure. 

Joe  Norcott  was  an  exceedingly  handsome  man. 
He  v/as  five  feet  eight  inches,  the  height  of  our  Father. 
He  had  large  brown  eyes,  brown  hair,  and  very  trim 
figure.  After  he  graduated  from  Princeton  he  studied 
law  under  Mr.  Mordecai,  in  Raleigh,  and  it  was  said  he 
and  two  other  young  men  kept  one  tailor  employed  all 
the  time.  He  kept  horses  and  a  body  servant,  and  life 
was  so  easy  for  him  that  he  learned  to  drink.  He  died 
at  the  early  age  of  twenty-eight  years. 

We  left  the  low  country  in  the  summer,  and  spent  the 
months  from  July  to  October  among  the  hills,  generally 


going  to  * 'Jones"  and  ''Shocco"  Springs  in  Warren 
County.  ]\Iy  father's  health  began  to  fail  soon  after  I 
was  born,  and  the  physician  advised  his  going  to  the 
''White  Sulphur  Springs"  in  Virginia.  He  began  to 
decline  rapidly,  and  died  on  July  6th,  1845.  Joe  Norcott 
and  I  walked  hand  in  hand  up  the  hillside  to  a  beautifully 
shaded  cemetery,  and  there  he  was  buried  under  a  big  oak 
tree.  The  tomb  stone  was  hauled  from  Richmond,  and 
is  in  a  good  state  of  preservation  to  this  day. 

I  am  very  proud  of  my  father's  record.  He  was 
what  is  called  a  "Self-made  Man",  and  I  shall  be  pleased 
indeed  if  his  descendants  make  as  good  a  record.  The 
Norcotts  came  from  Virginia  at  the  sam.e  time  the 
Grimes'  did,  and  settled  in  Pitt  County.  They  were 
respectable  people  but  I  have  not  been  able  to  trace 
ancestry  except  through  the  Clarkson  the  mother's  side, 
and  the  Norcotts  through  "ff'  Targe  'fortune  supposed  to 
have  been  left  them  in  Fredonia,  N.  Y. 

When  my  father  was  two  years  old,  and  his  sister 
Ann  six  months,  his  father  vras  killed  by  a  man  nam.ed 
Moore.  He,  hoping  to  better  himself,  had  bought  a 
plantation  near  Fayetteville,  and  was  on  his  way  to  pay 
for  it.  The  young  man  Moore  asked  to  accompany  him. 
The  first  day  Moore  would  ride  up  suddenly  from  behind, 
and  Mr.  William  Norcott  would  look  to  see  what  was  the 
matter.  This  became  so  frequent  that  he  ceased  to  gaze 
backward,  so  Moore  rode  up  suddenly  and  with  a  club 
knocked  him  from  his  horse,  and  killed  him.  The  next 
day  some  hunters  found  the  dead  body  beside  a  ditch 
bank,  and  the  horse  quietly  feeding  by  the  side  of  his 
master.  The  man  was  captured,  and  the  money  found 
under  a  log  in  a  swamp,  and  Ivloore  suffered  for  his  crime. 

This  of  course  left  the  widow  and  her  two  little  helpless 
children  in  a  bad  way,  which  was  made  worse  when  she 
made  a  very  poor  match  with  a  man  named  Nobles 
by  whom  she  had  two  sons.  The  step-father  was  very 
severe  to  little  John,  so  when  he  was  ten  years  old  he 
ran  away  to  Greenville,  and  lived  with  an  old  cousin 
named  Mrs.  Polly  Dancy.  He  worked  and  made  friends. 
He  was  a  bright  little  fellow,  and  so  capable  that  at 
the  age  of  eighteen  he  was  sent  in  charge  of  a  vessel 
to  the  West  Indies.  He  had  to  run  the  blockade,  and 
brave  many  dangers,  but  he  was  successful  in  bringing 
out  a  cargo  of  rum  and  molasses,  which  netted  his  em- 
ployer many  thousands  of  dollars. 


After  that  he  opened  a  store  for  general  merchandise 
in  Greenville  and  once  made  a  large  sum  in  salt.  He 
bought  the  Woodlawn  plantation  of  4,000  acres,  and 
bought  negroes  of  good  character  to  work  it.  He  was  an 
ardent  Whig,  and  had  great  influence  in  the  elections. 
Twice  a  year  my  mother  made  out  her  list  of  all  kinds  of 
delicious  West  India  preserves,  guava  jellies,  etc.,  for 
her  pantry,  and  sent  to  Nev7  York  for  them  in  the  order 
for  the  store. 

My  mother  was  ver}^  dignified  in  every  way,  but  I 
inherited  my  father's  gay  disposition.  I  have  thought  in 
her  management  of  me  she  did  not  make  due  allowance 
for  that,  but  she  was  always  doing  good.  She  never 
turned  a  beggar  from  her  door — she  was  a  most  faithful 
mistress,  reading  her  Bible  and  praying  with  her  servants. 
She  had  ample  means,  which  v/ere  used  to  the  Glory  of 
God,  and  in  charity.  She  was  always  doing  for  her 
brothers  and  sisters.  Mr.  Lovejoy,  who  taught  your 
father  and  his  brothers  in  Raleigh,  first  taught  in  Green- 
ville. He  was  induced  to  come  to  Greenville  through  the 
instrumentality  of  my  father,  on  Joe  Norcott's  account. 
Having  such  a  good  school  ''Mother"  took  advantage  of  it, 
and  her  sisters,  Elizabeth,  Susan,  and  Anne,  and  Frank 
and  Henry,  her  brothers,  had  successively,  a  warm 
welcome  and  a  happy  time  with  her  during  their  school 
days. 

LETTER  III 

We  did  not  remain  many  years  in  our  home  in  Green- 
ville, but  moved  to  Woodlav/n,  and  from  there  to  dear  old 
Washington,  where  my  happiest  days  v/ere  passed. 

I  wish  I  could  im.press  upon  you  the  delights  of  plan- 
tation life  during  slavery.  We  had  a  great  many  negroes, 
and  they  were  all  treated  kindly.  It  was  the  exception 
to  hear  of  unkind  masters.  It  would  have  been  very 
foolish  to  mistreat  property  that  could  be  converted  into 
money.  We  never  dreamed  of  being  afraid,  and  during 
the  Civil  War  when  the  masters  were  at  the  Front  we 
have  yet  to  hear  of  the  first  instance  where  the  slaves 
behaved  badly. 

When  I  was  a  child  I  had  a  pony,  of  course,  but  being 
wild  a  gentle  black  mule  was  substituted  in  his  place, 
and  so  much  pleasure  was  she  to  me  that  I  have  always 
felt  kindly  disposed  to  the  mule  creation.     I  would  get 


upon  her  back,  and  with  several  small  negroes  following 
to  wait  on  me  I  would  fly  up  and  down  the  plantation 
roads,  sometimes  going  by  the  mill  and  through  the 
stream,  which  I  thought  great  fun. 

''Woodlawn"  Plantation  was  so  large  that  there  were 
many  roads  through  it,  and  the  negro  cabins  were  scat- 
tered   in    different    convenient    places.     Old    Cat,    the 
colored  over-seer,  occupied  a  two  story  house  with  garden 
attached.     His  wife  did  not  work  in  the  field,  but  remamed 
at  home,   raising  poultry,   vegetables,   etc.   for  herself. 
Old  Cat  came  up  every  Saturday  night  to  report  progress. 
He  openly  said  he  would  harbor  runaway  slaves,  and  we 
did  not  say  anything  to  the  contrary.     Then  there  was 
a  long  alley  in  which  there  were  a  dozen  cabins,  shady 
trees,   and  a  well  of  delicious  cool  water.     Old  Aunt 
Rachel  occupied  the  middle  cabin,  and  the  babies  were 
brought  to  her  in  the  morning  to  take  care  of  while  the 
m.others  worked  in  the  fields.     I  used  to  go  down  and 
nurse  them  by  the  hour,  taking  first  one  and  then  another 
from  the  cradle.     All  the  cabins  had  gardens  attached, 
and  there  was  a  large  place  where  rutabaga  and  collards 
were  planted.     These  the  servants  were  at  liberty  to 
help  themselves  to.     Sunday  they  always  had  a  fine 
dinner,  often  company  from  the  neighboring  farms,  and 
a  nice  fat  chicken  graced  every  table.     The  looms  were 
kept  busy  all  the  time.     I  wish  I  could  show  you  the 
heavy  woolen  cloth  woven.     The  home-spun  was  bought 
by  the  bolt.      I  watched  the  flats    loaded    with  ^  corn 
and  cotton  from  the  big  barn.     I  was  ''Little  Missis"  to 
all  of  them,  and  it  is  a  wonder  I  did  not  get  spoilt  with  so 
much  attention,  but  I  was  so  full  of  life  I  could  not  take 
time  for  adulation.     What  a  time  I  had  rolling  down 
great  hills  of  cotton  seed!     And  getting  the  driver  to  let 
me  drive  the  mules  around  the  gin!     And  how  we  did 
enjoy  ''hog  killing"  and  sausage  making!     Great  pots  of 
lard  in  the  yard  cooking,  great  blocks  of  wood  with  meat 
on  them,  and  women  chopping  up  sausage  meat!     We 
had  no  cutters  in  those  days!     Then  sheep  shearing, 
and  watching  the  looms  weave  thick  woolen  cloth  for 
the  hands!     But  of  all  times  on  a  plantation  Christmas 
is  the  best.    ■ 

Not  being  strong  enough  to  manage  so  large  a  planta- 
tion my  mother  hired  out  the  able  bodied  men,  about 
thirty  or  more,  to  work  in  the  turpentine  forests  of 
Georgia,  receiving  from  two  hundred  and  fifty  to  three 
hundred    dollars    apiece    for    them    for    a    year.     They 


returned  at  Christmas,  dressed  in  very  fine  clothes, 
alvv'ays  with  a  watch  and  chain,  and  money  in  their 
pockets,  made  from  doing  extra  work.  Their  sweet- 
hearts and  wives  were  ready  to  receive  them,  and  they 
often  frohcked  all  night  long. 

]\Iy  pleasure  was  greatly  lessened  by  having  no 
companions.  I  dug  up  the  parsley  bed  looking  for  a 
little  brother,  and  kept  old  Jack,  the  carpenter,  in  a 
constant  state  of  misery  by  dulling  his  hatchet  in  digging 
at  old  hollow  stumps  looking  for  the  same  baby,  but  I 
never  found  one.  As  soon  as  I  heard  of  the  advent  of  a 
little  darky  down  I  went  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
name  it,  which  request  was  often  granted,  and  that  is 
the  way  I  learned  to  sew,  by  making  clothes  for  them. 

Sometimes  we  would  row  down  Trantus  Creek  in  our 
large  boat,  which  Tony,  our  milk  and  butter  man,  had 
charge  of.  This  was  a  lovely  row  from  ''Woodlawn''  to 
the  Grist  Farm,  and  we  would  spend  the  night  there, 
and  have  a  gay  time  with  the  Grist  children  with  games 
and  dances. 

I  was  so  happy  in  Washington.  My  teacher  was 
Mrs.  Worthington.  I  was  very  quick  about  everj^thing 
but  arithmetic.  She  seemed  to  think  I  was  a  wild  child, 
as  indeed  I  was.  I  loved  to  play  with  the  boys,  and 
such  nice  boys  they  were.  Johnnie  and  Jimmy  Hoyt, 
Allen  and  Wily  Grist,  Adam  Tredwell,  Jimmie  and  Willie 
Howard — Jimmy  Howard  was  killed  in  the  war,  and  the 
others  have  paid  the  debt  I  shall  soon  have  to  pay. 
Sallie  Howard  was  three  weeks  older  than  I,  and  Oh! 
what  an  unfortunate  three  weeks!  I  had  to  give  way  on 
all  occasions.  My  dear  friend  married  as  I  did  and  had 
a  large  family.  She  left  us  a  few  years  ago,  but  I  had 
the  comfort  of  seeing  her  several  tim_es  during  her  last 
illness. 

Often  on  bright  beautiful  Saturdays  Tony  would 
come  wath  his  boat,  then  ma,  a  crowd  of  girls,  and  I 
would  go  and  spend  the  day  at  Woodlawn.  A  carriage 
would  meet  us  at  the  landing,  and  such  a  busy,  happy 
tirne  we  would  have  fixing  the  lunch  and  so  on.  The 
dairy,  which  stood  under  a  huge  oak  tree,  near  the  ''Great 
House"  door  was  full  of  milk,  butter  and  cream,  and  this 
was  freely  given  us.  Oh!  the  charming  plantation  days, 
never  to  return!  Oh!  the  tender  friendship  between 
servant  and  master,  so  little  understood! 


10 


LETTER  IV 

I  don't  believe  any  modern  watering  place  can  compare 
to  the  old  fashioned  ''Jones"  and  ''Shocco''  Springs  in 
Warren  County.  The  refined,  agreeable  company  one 
met  there,  and  the  highbred  women,  one  does  not  always 
meet  with  these  days. 

Frank  Johnson's  band  was  a  feature  of  the  place. 
He  was  a  wonderful  musician,  and  had  seven  sons  equally 
gifted.  He  was  a  slave  and  hired  his  time.  I  think  I 
can  hear  his  ''Swing  Corners",  "Ladies  to  the  right," 
"Sashae  all  of  you". 

My  mother  and  Mrs.  Howard  were  handsome  widows 
and  great  friends.  They  were  always  together.  Ma 
had  a  number  of  offers  of  marriage,  and  sometimes  the 
beaux  would  make  me  the  medium  of  tender  messages. 
One,  a  Dr.  Green  made  quite  a  pet  of  me.  Oscar  Alston 
would  come  to  the  Springs,  and  put  a  table  on  the  lawn, 
and  display  his  toys  and  candy.  So  on  one  occasion 
when  he  had  done  this  I  saw  Dr.  Green  pass  and  asked 
him  for  some  candy.  He  gave  it,  of  course,  but  I  had  no 
sooner  put  the  candy  into  my  mouth  when  it  began  to 
taste  bitter.  I  knew  what  to  expect  from  my  mother 
when  she  found  out  what  I  had  done,  and  I  was  not 
disappointed. 

This  Oscar  Alston  was  a  remarkable  negro,  as  was  also 
Frank  Johnson.  Oscar  married  and  had  a  large  family. 
He  sent  his  children  to  Ohio  to  be  educated.  One,  a  son, 
was  an  Episcopal  clergyman.  The  girls  were  taught  music, 
and  when  I  was  six  years  old  my  mother  spent  three  months 
in  Philadelphia  under  Dr.  Hodge,  Bettie  Alston  went  as 
our  maid,  and  we  got  to  respect  the  Alstons  very  much. 

There  was  a  scuppernong  vine  covering  two  acres  at 
Jones  Springs.  I  have  never  tasted  such  delicious  grapes. 
But  once  they  were  not  so  good.  I  had  on  a  pretty  new 
dress,  and  was  on  the  top  of  the  arbor  when  I  tore  my 
dress  so  badly  that  not  even  my  faithful  Hollon  could 
mend  it.  I  had  on  a  lovely  white  dress  on  another 
occasion  which  Hollon  had  spent  weeks  in  making;  the 
insertion  put  in  by  "Ladder  stitch"  and  "Herring  bone". 
Mother  was  already  in  the  carriage  at  Jones  Springs,  to 
return  to  Shocco  Springs,  six  miles  off  (we  were  spending 
the  day  at  Jones  Springs),  when  I  could  not  be  found. 
Finally  I  was  discovered,  playing  on  an  old  brush  heap 
over  an  unused  v/ell,  and  the  beautiful  dress  torn  all  to 
pieces.  You  can  well  imagine  I  was  silent  during  the 
homeward  drive. 

11 


LETTER  V 

^^Tien  I  was  thirteen  years  old  my  mother  married 
Mr.  S.  B.  Carraway  of  Monticello  Plantation,  ten  miles 
from  Kinston.  He  lived  four  years,  and  most  of  that 
time  I  was  away  at  boarding  school  but  passed  my 
winter  vacations  at  Monticello,  and  my  summers  at 
Brandon,  our  summer  home  seven  miles  from  Raleigh. 
My  step-father  was  very  kind  to  me,  as  was  also  his  son 
Willie,  sixteen  years  old.  We  both  had  beautiful  ponies, 
and  the  long  delightful  rides  we  took,  generally  getting  up 
at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  coming  home  to  a 
breakfast  of  fruit,  berries,  broiled  chicken,  waffles,  beaten 
biscuit,  such  as  no  one  but  a  Southern  Cook  can  make. 

Just  after  my  mother's  marriage  to  Mr.  Carraway  she 
had  a  severe  attack  of  illness,  and  the  physician  said  she 
must  go  to  the  White  Sulphur  Springs,  the  same  place 
where  my  father  died.  I  knew  very  Httle  about  books, 
having  lost  much  time  from  traveHng  about,  so  it  was 
decided  not  to  take  me.  The  only  school  open  at  that 
time,  July,  was  in  Raleigh,  kept  by  a  minister  and  his  wife. 
It  was  our  first  parting,  and  we  felt  dreadfully.  She 
wanted  to  leave  Hollon  with  me,  but  it  was  thought  best 
not  to  do  so,  so  Mother  in  her  distress  asked  the  teacher 
if  I  got  sick  to  let  her  know,  and  if  I  died  in  no  case  to 
have  me  buried  until  she  arrived. 

After  reaching  the  Springs  my  mother  had  a  relapse, 
and  for  days  her  life  was  despaired  of.  Just  then  I 
heard  a  whisper  among  the  girls  that  she  had  told  the 
teacher  something  about  my  dying,  and  had  even  selected 
the  dress  I  was  to  wear  in  case  such  an  event  occurred.  I 
had  been  very  much  petted,  and  was  very  unhappy,  and 
this  rumor  was  very  painful  to  me.  As  I  would  take 
each  dress  out  of  the  trunk  I  would  v/onder  if  that  was 
the  one  I  should  wear  in  my  coffin.  The  whole  trouble 
was  that  the  teacher  had  received  the  impression  that  we 
were  only  using  her  school  as  a  convenience,  and  was 
much  incensed  at  the  idea.  She  wrote  a  letter  that  she 
wished  me  to  be  removed  as  I  was  disorderly.  My 
mother  had  returned  then,  and  it  was  only  a  few  weeks 
before  the  closing  of  school.  She  handed  the  letter  to 
her  husband,  who  was  a  good  man,  and  he  read  it  to  me. 
I  began  to  cry  and  begged  him  to  reserve  the  letter,  and 
send  it  when  I  went  home,  as  I  feared  for  the  consequence 
to  Mother  in  her  enfeebled  condition.  I  think  he  was 
very  glad  to  do  this,  and  in  a  few  days  when  I  returned 
home  a  complimentary  letter  was  written.     I  was  then 

12 


sent  to  the  Richmond  Female  Institute,  and  I  spent  three 
years  there  very  happily — made  friends  with  teachers  and 
pupils.  But  the  person  who  had  most  influence  over  me, 
and  had  more  to  do  with  moulding  my  character  after 
my  mother  was  an  English  lady  named  Kingsford,  who 
had  a  select  school  in  Washington,  D.  C.  This  school 
was  limited  to  twenty  boarders  and  the  same  number  of 
day  scholars.  I  was  so  happy  at  this  school;  I  formed  so 
many  charming  acquaintances  and  friends.  I  correspon- 
ded with  some  of  them  for  many  years.  We  were  allowed 
to  visit  one  Saturday  in  each  month.  I  certainly  enjoyed 
that.  Then  we  went  to  President  Buchannan's  **Levees", 
and  to  the  Capitol,  and  other  places  of  interest,  and  took 
long  walks  in  every  part  of  the  city. 

I  always  had  a  sweetheart  on  hand.  I  recall  one, 
Johnny  Potts,  with  whom  I  was  much  in  love.  When  I 
was  about  ten  years  old  he  sent  me  flowers  every  week, 
and  strange  to  say  I  never  see  a  white  narcissus  now  but 
his  pleasant  face  rises  before  me.  He  was  killed  in  our 
Civil  War.  Then  I  fell  much  in  love  with  a  nephew  of 
Mr.  Corcoran,  the  Washington  banker;  quite  as  much  as 
David  Copperfield  was  with  Dora.  Even  the  sun  shone 
brighter  when  this  Sweetheart  was  by. 

We  had  a  teacher  at  this  school,  a  Mrs.  Thompson,  a 
tall,  gawky  graduate  of  Vassar.  She  could  do  nothing 
with  these  bright  Southern  girls.  What  jokes  we  did 
play  upon  her!  One  night  when  Mrs.  Kingsford  was 
gone  we  put  paper  over  our  combs,  and  gave  out  the  most 
wild  music.  The  faster  we  played  the  madder  she  got. 
She  had  a  time  with  the  girls  and  their  sweethearts. 
One  night  we  got  nicely  caught.  The  boys  (Columbia 
students)  were  serenading  us,  and  singing  ''Star  of  the 
Evening,  Beautiful  Star"  and  ''Annie  Laurie'',  and  so  on. 
W^e  were  at  the  window  making  frantic  efforts  to  wave, 
when  the  door  opened,  and  in  walked  Madam  Kingsford! 
Silence  was  supreme,  and  then  we  all  made  a  rush  for  our 
beds.  Fanny  Fox,  my  bed-fellow,  popped  in  too  hurriedly, 
and  the  slats  fell  out  of  the  bed  on  to  the  floor  with  such 
a  crash!  This  friend  of  mine  was  from  Mississippi,  and 
hved  next  door  to  Jacob  Thompson,  then  Secretary  of 
the  Interior,  and  residing  at  that  time  in  Washington. 
They  had  an  only  son,  Macon,  a  very  nice  boy,  but  much 
disfigured  by  being  salivated  when  a  little  fellow.  His 
mouth  was  all  twisted,  and  he  was  compelled  to  eat  with 
his  fingers.  He  never  had  been  in  love  with  anyone  but 
this  girl,  and  after  she  left  school  he  married  her,  and 

13 


Kate  Thompson,  their  daughter  was  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  in  the  south. 

I  can  never  forget  Mrs.  Kingsford's  pie  plant  and 
rhubarb  pies,  especially  as  each  pie  was  cut  into  eight 
pieces,  the  old  doctor  refusing  to  make  them  larger. 
Nor  can  I  ever  forget  her  plum  puddings,  which  were 
dehcious.  She  had  an  English  recipe,  from  which  she 
would  not  part.  She  always  made  twelve,  and  we  had 
one  every  Sunday. 

The  box  I  received  from  home  that  Christmas  was 
something  to  be  remembered.  Gold  and  silver  cake, 
fruit  cake,  a  great  package  of  candy,  parched  peanuts 
already  shelled,  home  made  sausage,  which  I  bribed  the 
cook  to  broil  for  me,  jelly,  and  everything  I  could  wish 
for.  The  box  lasted  during  the  holidays,  and  with  every 
taste  of  the  food  I  felt  how  rich  I  was  in  my  mother's  love. 

Several  times  Mrs.  Kingsford  took  some  of  the  girls 
to  Baltimore  to  spend  Sunday,  and  we  took  a  never-to- 
be-forgotten  trip  to  Mt.  Vernon  on  a  big  steamer,  and 
met  a  funny  old  preacher,  who  told  us  many  things  we 
did  not  know. 

Then  our  commencement  at  the  Smnthsonian  Institute, 
where  I  made  the  one  great  triumph  of  my  life,  very 
unexpected,  and  wholly  undeserved,  and  due  only  to  the 
fact  that  the  subject  ''A  peep  through  Time's  Spy  glass", 
was  a  pleasant  hit  at  the  girls.  Part  of  the  program  was 
a  flower  play  in  which  I  was  a  poppy;  then  the  prizes,  in 
which  I  received  Jeremy  Taylor's  works.  This  was  in 
1857. 

During  the  session  my  step-father  died.  My  mother 
and  I  spent  the  following  summer  very  quietly  and 
pleasantly  at  ''Brandon"  our  Wake  County  summer  home. 
My  pony  ''Charlie"  was  a  gi^eat  pleasure  to  me.  I  rode 
miles  every  day.  In  the  fall  we  moved  to  New  Berne 
where  we  have  since  lived,  except  the  four  years  of  war. 

I  had  a  delightful  winter  in  New  Berne;  was  invited 
out  constantly,  and  had  company  at  home.  These  new 
fashioned  dances  were  not  in  vogue  then,  I  am  thankful 
to  say.  We  danced  the  Virginia  reel,  the  Cotillion, 
waltzed,  and  played  such  as  Grand  Multa,  stage-coach, 
and  other  games,  and  always  finished  off  with  a  delicious 
supper. 

I  had  met  your  Father  at  the  Raleigh  Fair,  and  had 
engaged  myself  to  him  before  the  summer  which  Mamma 
and  I  and  our  maid  Hollon  spent  at  the  Virginia  Springs. 


We  took  the  South  Side  Raih'oad  at  Petersburg,  and  had 
such  a  lovely  trip  viewing  mountains  and  valleys,  and 
laughing  at  Hollon,  who  took  advantage  of  our  passing 
through  the  tunnels  to  ''dip"  her  much  enjoyed  snuff. 

First  we  went  to  the  Alleghany  Springs.  Fortunately 
a  cadet  who  lived  near  took  a  fancy  to  me,  and  what 
wonderful  rides  I  had  on  his  horse,  raised  in  these 
mountains,  and  he  riding  one  equally  fine. 

Here  we  met  a  family  named  Prescott  from  Louisiana. 
We  all  became  so  fond  of  each  other  that  we  spent  the 
whole  summer  together.  Where  my  mother  and  I  went 
they  did  also. 

We  were  enchanted  with  the  Yellow  Sulphur  Springs— 
the  must  lovely  spot  in  all  that  lovely  country,  and  there 
we  met  a  family  of  Prestons,  native  people,  who  had  a 
large  stock  farm,  and  entertained  delightfully.  The  son, 
Walter,  was  very  fond  of  me,  and  we  visited  them  in  their 
lovely  mountain  home. 

I  got  very  friendly  with  a  gentleman  from  Petersburg, 
who  drove  a  span  of  spirited  horses,  and  he  allowed  me 
to  drive  them.  The  owner's  name  is  long  since  forgotten, 
but  the  essence  of  the  drives  rem^ains. 

Louis  Prescott  and  I  had  a  most  desperate  flirtation. 
He  was  engaged  to  a  girl  from  Louisiana,  and  I  to  your 
Father.  He  became  so  persistent  and  I  so  bewildered 
had  I  been  a  Romanist  I  would  have  sought  the  cloisters. 

In  October  we  went  to  New  York,  and  stopped  in  the 
famous  old  St.  Nicholas  Hotel.  This  was  essentially  a 
Southern  Hotel,  and  we  met  many  of  our  Springs  ac- 
quaintances. We  spent  some  weeks  in  New  York. 
My  mother  was  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Bedford.  How 
happy  these  days  were!  Free  from  care!  How  thought- 
less I  was!  I  took  pleasure  in  everything.  I  ordered  my 
bridal  trousseau  then,  and  what  charms  of  beauty  my 
dresses  were  and  how  unconscious  I  was  of  any  charm, 
if  I  had  any,  or  anything  else  but  to  be  happy  all  the  day 
long. 

LETTER  VI 

On  November  24th,  1859  I  was  married  in  our  home  at 
New  Berne  to  your  father,  Henry  Ravenscroft  Bryan  of 
Raleigh,  by  the  Rev.  Thomas  Skinner  of  Raleigh.  We  took 
a  southern  bridal  trip,  remaining  two  months.  ^  ''Cotton 
was  king"  in  those  days,  and  we  considered  buying  a  plan- 
tation further  south,  and  moving  out  there.  After  looking 
about  a  great  deal  we  concluded  the  "Old  North  State" 

15 


was  good  enough,  especially  as  we  encountered  one  of  the 
usual  yearly  ''freshets",  and  saw  miles  of  the  country 
under  water.  The  steamer  made  her  way  guided  by  the 
trees  on  each  side  of  the  river. 

So  we  returned  home  and  with  some  money  my  dear 
Father  had  left  me  we  bought  the  "Clermont"  plantation. 

We  spent  several  days  in  Memphis,  going  from  there 
on  the  Steamer  Ingorma  a  five  day's  journey.  There 
were  six  brides  and  grooms  along.  John  Hines  was  one 
of  the  guests.  He  was  your  father's  great  friend,  and 
we  all  got  very  friendly,  indeed. 

I  was  much  disappointed  at  the  appearance  of  the 
''Father  of  Waters".  It  cannot  compare  to  our  own 
beautiful  Neuse.  It  is  much  narrower,  deeper,  and  the 
waters  a  cruel  dark  color.  How  many  beating  hearts, 
and  happy  voices  have  been  stilled  beneath  its  waves! 
There  was  an  exceedingly  attractive  and  beautiful  girl 
from  South  Carolina,  named  Victoria  Jordan,  in  New  York 
getting  her  trousseau  at  the  same  time  I  was.  She 
followed  on  the  same  route  a  week  later,  and  the  steamer 
took  fire.  Her  husband  refused  to  leave  her,  and  hand 
in  hand  both  jumped  to  a  watery  grave. 

We  had  a  pleasant  stay  in  New  Orleans  at  the  St. 
Charles.  We  went  to  the  French  theater,  and  got  a 
scowl  from  Louis  Prescott,  who  occupied  a  seat  near, 
saw  the  slave  market,  and  the  levees.  The  river  being 
higher  than  the  surrounding  ground  is  kept  in  place  by 
huge  embankments,  which  require  constant  watchfulness, 
and  much  labor. 

The  trip  from  New  Orleans  by  boat  to  Mobile  was  very 
interesting.  We  passed  the  place  on  which  the  island 
stood  many  years  before,  which  was  destroyed  by  a  tidal 
wave.  The  large  hotel  was  filled  with  guests;  it  was  a 
gala  night,  there  was  dancing  and  revelry  in  the  building. 
The  dancers  noticed  the  planks  of  the  floor  begin  to  move, 
the  water  to  cover  their  feet,  and  before  morning  there 
was  not  a  sign  of  hotel  or  guest;  all  had  disappeared; 
beautiful  girls,  babies,  mothers,  all  answered  the  last  call 
before  the  morning  light. 

I  was  charmed  with  Mobile — wide  shady  streets,  and 
the  glimmering  bay  in  the  distance;  the  sunshine  and 
flowers,  and  sweet  shady  homes.  I  saw  Edith  Whitfield 
here.     Afterwards  she  married  a  Yankee  General. 

The  trip  up  the  Alabama  and  Tombigbee  Rivers  was 
also  full  of  interest.     We  stopped  at  Selma,  Montgomery, 

16 


and  with  your  father's  sister  Mrs.  Speight,  who  lived  on  a 
large  plantation  with  her  husband.  We  also  stopped  at 
Demopolis,  and  made  General  Nathan  and  Gaius  Whitfield 
a  visit.  Everything  was  in  grand  style,  and  they  treated  us 
royally.  Gen'l  Whitfield  was  a  musicial  genius,  and  had 
invented  a  huge  kind  of  piano  which  sounded  something 
like  a  calliope. 

But  after  awhile  our  pleasant  visit  ended,  and  we 
returned  home,  had  a  reception,  and  settled  down  to  the 
every  day  life  of  married  people. 

On  October  3rd,  1860  my  little  boy,  John  Norcott,  was 
born.  I  was  delighted  with  the  little  fellow.  He  filled 
out  my  measure  of  love.  We  had  ''Mammy  Ria"  to 
nurse  him,  and  I  stood  over  the  crib  in  admiration,  as 
did  also  my  mother  and  ''Mammy  Ria''.  We  watched 
each  smile  and  look  of  love;  watched  his  development, 
and  thought  him  a  most  wonderful  child.  My  mother 
sent  to  New  York  and  bought  him  a  most  beautiful 
white  embroidered  cloak  and  cap.  Your  father  had  his 
crib  made  in  Baltimore.  Mr.  Seth  Atmore  gave  him  a 
silver  cup,  which  was  stolen  during  the  war,  and  after 
many  years  recovered.  His  baby  carriage  was  on  the 
last  boat  to  arrive  before  the  blockade. 

The  winter  of  1861  was  a  most  anxious  one.  We 
could  not  tell  what  would  be  the  result  of  so  much  agita- 
tion. In  the  meantime  your  father  was  making 
"Clermont"  a  model  farm.  A  number  of  nice  houses  were 
built,  the  fine  brick  residence  repaired,  stock  of  every 
kind  bought,  and  a  large  crop  of  corn  and  cotton  planted. 
The  product  of  the  first  year  would  have  been  300  bales 
of  cotton  and  1,000  barrels  of  corn,  besides  peas,  potatoes, 
etc.  All  this,  of  course,  involved  great  expense,  which 
could  have  been  easily  paid  from  the  first  year's  produce, 
but  the  Yankees  took  New  Berne,  and  we  had  to  abandon 
our  farm.  We  lost  everything.  The  negroes  were  freed, 
the  houses  burnt,  the  brick  house,  which  was  built  of 
bricks  brought  from  England,  pulled  down,  trees  cut 
down,  and  the  plantation  left  a  barren  wilderness.  The 
cotton  was  used  as  a  barricade  at  Union  Point,  the  corn 
fed  the  Yankee  soldiers,  and  our  legacy  was  debts. 

My  mother  had  a  long  attack  of  illness  this  winter, 
and  our  chief  pleasure  was  in  watching  the  development 
of  my  little  son. 

George  Bryan  was  stationed  in  New  Berne  at  this  time, 
and  stayed  with  us.  We  learned  to  love  and  appreciate 
his   beautiful    Christian    character.      In    July    '61    ma, 

17 


Baby,  "Mammy  Ria"  and  I  went  to  KittrelFs  Springs 
near  Raleigh  for  several  weeks.  George  was  at  training 
camp  three  miles  from  there,  and  we  saw  a  great  deal  of 
him.  He  was  one  of  the  bravest,  and  gentlest  boys  I 
ever  knew.  He  had  graduated  at  Chapel  Hill  at  the  age 
of  eighteen,  and  had  immediately  been  offered  a  Greek 
tutorship.  He  gave  this  up  to  become  a  lieutenant  in 
the  Confederate  Cavalry.  He  would  often  ride  from  his 
camp  to  the  springs,  and  spend  an  hour  with  us.  Often 
when  I  went  to  _my  room  at  night,  after  having  danced 
all  the  evening  in  the  ball-room  my  mother  would  say: 
*'We  also  have  had  a  pleasant  visit.  George  has  been  here". 

We  stopped  a  little  while  at  Wake  Forest,  and  came 
home  to  find  affairs  still  more  unsettled.  Your  father 
concluded  it  was  useless  to  try  to  make  another  crop,  so 
early  in  '62  he  took  a  good  many  of  the  negroes  to  Wake 
County.  In  March  things  were  so  threatening  it  was 
thought  best  for  as  many  of  the  women  and  children  to 
leave  as  could  conveniently  do  so.  We  packed  up  some 
bedding,  trunks,  etc.,  and  went  to  Company  Shops,  now 
called  Burhngton.  We  left  our  homes  handsomely 
furnished,  a  year's  provisions  in  the  pantry  and  smoke- 
house, cordials,  wines,  preserves,  pickles,  smoked  hams, 
and  an  abundance  of  everything,  bed  clothes,  table  Hnen, 
and  everything  required  for  a  home  including  a  handsome 
book-case  filled  with  all  kinds  of  books.  The  furniture 
and  many  other  things  were  sent  north  by  the  soldiers, 
a  package  of  love  letters  opened,  read  and  laughed  at. 

We  had  two  bed-rooms  on  the  front  of  the  house  at 
Burhngton,  looking  over  the  piazza  and  railroad  tracks. 
Our  excess  baggage  was  stored  somewhere.  My  mother, 
always  an  invahd,  was  taken  very  ill  when  we  got  to  the 
Shops,  and  the  baby  took  the  whooping  cough  on  the 
cars,  which  was  followed  by  measles  and  then  slow  fever, 
which  ended  his  life  when  he  was  twenty-one  months  old, 
July  8th,  1862.  He  was  buried  in  the  cemetery  at  Greens- 
boro, and  we  have  never  been  able  to  find  the  sacred 
ashes,  so  much  burying  there  during  the  war. 

Burlington  was  a  pleasant  country  village,  and 
Fannie  was  born  there.  I  had  my  bed  placed  by  the 
window  so  I  could  look  out  and  many  a  sad  sight  have  I 
witnessed — one  poor  boy,  every  bone  in  his  body  crushed 
in  a  mill  nearby  was  brought  and  placed  under  the 
railroad  shelter.  His  heart-broken  mother  stood  over 
him  until  the  end  came. 

After  we  all  got  better  we  went  to  Lexington,  and 

18 


stayed  several  months.  The  refugees  in  some  instances 
were  not  cordially  received  by  the  up-country  people, 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  yellow  fever,  which  was  so 
fatal  in  New  Berne  in  1863  it  would  have  been  better  for  us 
to  have  remained  at  home. 

LETTER  VII 

After  Norcott's  death,  and  so  much  sickness  and 
trouble,  we  determined  to  get  nearer  home,  so  as  we 
could  not  rent  a  house  in  Raleigh  we  went  to  your  Grand- 
father Bryan's  little  farm  four  miles  from  there.  The 
house  was  a  log  cabin  with  a  shed,  and  a  small  piazza  in 
front,  with  a  half -story  over  the  main  room.  My  dear 
mother  occupied  this  little  room  and  it  soon  partook  of 
her  presence.  The  white  pine  table  standing  between 
two  little  four  pane  windows  had  a  dimity  cover,  her 
wrapper  and  slippers  nearby,  her  Bible  and  "Jay"  on  a 
stand  near  the  bed,  her  sweet  individuality  was  always 
felt.     I  loved  to  go  to  her  room  and  converse  with  her. 

I  rather  liked  this  country  life.  We  had  daily  com- 
munication with  town.  News  of  terrible  battles  in  which 
our  friends  and  relatives  were  either  wounded  or  killed 
kept  us  very  unhappy.  Your  father  could  not  fight  in 
the  war  ownng  to  a  physical  disability,  but  he  was  heart 
and  soul  with  the  ''Lost  Cause",  and  aided  in  every  way. 
Indeed,  when  my  mother  with  her  strong  business  sense 
suggested  converting  the  negroes  into  real  estate  he 
offered  objections,  so  we  ''risked  all,  and  lost  all".  We 
cut  our  carpets  up  and  sent  them  to  the  soldiers,  and 
comforts  and  blankets,  and  we  were  always  doing  some- 
thing for  them.  My  mother,  and  your  grandmother 
Bryan  knitted  numberless  pairs  of  socks.  Their  busy 
fingers  were  always  at  work.  I  made  a  good  deal  of 
money  myself,  of  which  I  was  very  proud.  I  had  a  fine 
suit  of  brown  homespun,  woven  in  our  loom.  I  had  some 
bolts  of  yellow  homespun,  which  I  exchanged  to  great 
advantage.  I  made  neck  ties  and  fancy  things  and  sold 
them,  and  often  had  several  thousand  dollars  in  Con- 
federate money  in  my  purse.  I  cut  a  Marshall's  badge 
used  at  Chapel  Hill  and  made  money  out  of  that.  I  had 
a  last,  and  made  Fannie  many,  many  pairs  of  shoes — out 
of  goat  skin,  bound  with  ribbon.  I  dressed  her  very  fine 
out  of  my  scrap  trunk.  She  had  pretty  curls  so  attracted 
attention. 

One  night  at  the  plantation  we  had  a  fearful  experience. 
My  mother  came  down  from  her  little  upstairs  room, 

19 


and  waked  us  up  saying  she  heard  strange  noises  in  the 
yard.  The  negroes  were  having  a  gay  time  singing 
''Hurrah!  Hurrah!  we  are  free,  we  are  free!''  swinging 
hands  and  dancing  around  the  tree,  and  we  thought  we 
heard  the  fife  and  drum.  We  got  up,  dressed  quickly, 
made  a  fire  in  the  huge  fire-place,  covered  up  the  four- 
pane  windows,  and  sat  down  to  wait  developments.  Noth- 
ing happened,  and  morning  dawned  bright  and  rosy  with 
no  evidence  of  the  night  of  mortal  agony  we  had  passed 
through.  We  found  the  negroes  were  having  an  unusual 
time  with  their  neighbors  and  had  enjoyed  their  frohc 
irnxUiensely.  The  fife  we  heard  was  the  creaking  of  the 
well  bucket  in  drawing  water. 

Generally  once  a  week  your  grandfather  and  grand- 
mother Bryan  spent  the  day  with  us.  My  dear  mother 
enjoyed  their  company  very  much.  We  had  plenty  of 
visitors  in  our  log  cabin  home.  We  bought  some  coffee 
and  sugar  which  we  doled  out,  substituting  parched  rye 
and  sweet  potatoes  ground  up.  We  resorted  to  all  kinds 
of  things  to  make  good  things  to  eat  and  used  so  much 
sorghum  I  can't  bear  the  taste  of  it  to  this  day.  Our 
most  frequent  visitor  was  Fred,  "Freddie"  as  his  family 
called  him.  He  was  your  father's  youngest  brother,  and 
a  likable,  intelhgent,  handsome  lad.  He  and  my  mother 
played  back-gammon  by  the  hour — a  fine  game  but  not 
much  in  vogue  now.  Fred  before  this  had  been  sent  to 
Col.  Tew's  school  in  Hillsboro,  but  the  ^  hard  barracks 
life  was  too  much  for  his  delicate  constitution,  and  he 
contracted  diabetes.  He  then  went  to  Chapel  Hill,  the 
last  of  eight  brothers  who  had  graduated  there  with 
distinction.  He  easily  took  first  honors,  but  his  health 
failed  so  that  his  parents  brought  him  home.  This  was 
in  the  height  of  the  war  and  proper  medicines  could  not 
be  procured.  He  continued  his  studies  under  good  old 
Dr.  Mason,  and  it  was  then  that  we  saw  so  much  of  him. 
He  was  very  fond  of  coming  to  the  farm,  and  spending 
several  days  at  a  time. 

We  finally  found  a  four-room  cottage  in  Raleigh,  and 
moved  there,  where  we  saw  much  more  of  Fred. 

War  seemed  to  derange  every  part  of  society.  Carnage 
and  death  in  the  army — sickness  and  trouble  at  home. 
Scarlet  fever  then  broke  out  in  the  country  and  got  among 
our  negroes.  At  that  particular  time  your  father  was 
ill  in  bed,  and  my  dear  mother  was  visiting  her  sister  in 
Halifax.  I  was  sitting  by  the  fire,  holding  Fannie,  a 
baby  of  eight  months,  in  my  lap,  when  Oily,  one  of  the 

20 


servants,  came  in  with  a  sick  baby  to  be  doctored.  I  put 
my  little  girl  down,  and  took  this  one  in  my  arms,  and 
just  as  I  did  so  it  died.  Oily  screamed.  I  was  completely 
unnerved,  and  felt  I  should  lose  Fannie  also,  as  I  had  lost 
Norcott.  The  little  negro  child  had  died  of  scarlet  fever. 
We  immediately  called  up  Stephen  and  sent  him  to 
Raleigh  to  find  a  boarding  house.  There  were  children 
at  the  Bryan  home,  so  we  could  not  take  a  scarlet  fever 
suspect  there.  Stephen  returned  at  night  fall,  un- 
successful. 

The  next  morning  the  horses  were  put  to  the  carriage, 
and  brought  to  the  door.  I  hastily  packed  some  things 
in  my  portmanteau,  and  with  nurse  and  baby  started  out,  I 
knew  not  where.  I  passed  through  Raleigh,  and  took 
the  road  to  Wake  Forrest.  My  kind  aunt  Sue  Cobb  was 
*'refugeeing''  four  miles  from  the  college.  I  was  going 
to  continue  my  journey  until  someone  took  me  in.  When 
I  drew  up  to  her  door  I  sent  for  her  to  come  to  the  carriage, 
and  explained  the  situation.  She  also  had  children,  but 
before  I  finished  her  kind  arms  were  outstretched,  and 
her  sweet  voice  bade  me  welcome.  I  shut  the  baby  and 
nurse  up  for  several  days,  and  as  no  scarlet  fever  developed 
we  became  quite  gay,  and  had  a  charming  visit.  We 
had  several  notes  for  small  sums  which  Dr.  Cobb  owed  us. 
These  I  gladly  sent  with  my  letter  of  thanks. 

We  found  the  four-room  cottage  which  we  took  in 
Raleigh,  better  than  the  log  cabin.  We  had  to  build  a 
log  pantry,  and  the  kitchen  was  on  the  next  lot.  The 
Legislature  was  in  session  that  winter,  and  you  would  be 
surprised  at  the  number  we  stowed  away  on  a  cot  in  the 
parlor. 

There  had  been  a  terrible  battle  at  Gettysburg,  and 
our  bravest  and  best  fell  like  sheep.  Collin  Hughes, 
Jacob  Brooksfield,  Harry  Burgwyn,  Jimmy  Howard,  and 
many  others  of  our  friends  were  killed  or  desperately 
wounded.  James  and  Sam  Biddle  were  doing  valiant 
service  in  Virginia.  George  Bryan  was  taken  prisoner. 
He  had  received  a  severe  wound  in  the  head,  and  was  left 
for  dead  on  the  field;  he  crav/led  under  a  stone  wall,  and 
was  there  captured  by  a  Yankee  soldier,  and  taken  to 
Washington,  D.  C,  and  put  in  prison.  He  suffered  a 
great  deal  with  his  head,  and  portions  of  the  bone  were 
taken  out.  Some  kind  ladies  sent  him  flowers.  He  was 
next^  taken  to  Johnson's  Island.  He  passed  through 
Baltimore,  but  was  not  allowed  to  speak  to  his  brother, 
William  Shepard  Bryan,  who  lived   there.     The  prison 

21 


was  on  an  inhospitable  island  in  Lake  Erie.  It  was 
made  of  boards  running  up  and  down,  and  the  bleak 
wind  whistled  through  them.  George  would  have  suc- 
cumbed to  the  cold  had  it  not  been  for  a  very  heavy 
overcoat  his  brother  Frank  sent  him,  which  he  wore  day 
and  night.  There  was  a  small  stove  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  with  bunks  built  all  around  the  sides.  Some  of 
the  prisoners  sat  near  the  stove,  others  sat  on  a  bench 
a  little  further  removed,  and  still  others  would  walk 
around  until  the  first  were  warmed.  If  there  was  an 
unusually  warm  spell  the  men  made  pillows  of  sticks  of 
wood,  v/hich  were  burnt  when  it  grew  colder.  The  fare 
was  miserable.  Joe  Hellen  told  m.e  he  saw  two  soldiers 
fight  over  a  beef  bone  until  one  killed  the  other. 

All  these  troubles  had  produced  softening  of  the  brain 
in  your  grandfather.  Charlotte  Grimes  lost  her  little 
baby,  and  was  constantly  anxious  about  her  husband, 
General  Bryan  Grimes.  He  was  in  the  front  everywhere; 
was  said  to  be  the  hero  of  a  hundred  battles.  Mr. 
Speight  had  his  only  son  killed  in  a  skirmish,  and  he 
himself  died  at  Bladen  Springs,  Alabama  in  1863.  Your 
cousin,  Gen'l  Johnston  Pettigrew,  had  been  killed  at  Fal- 
ling Waters  and  every  day  we  received  an  account  of  the 
wounding  or  death  of  some  dear  acquaintance  or  friend. 

Freddie  faded  day  by  day.  He  was  the  ''Benjamin" 
of  his  family,  and  everybody  was  tender  and  kind  to  him, 
but  the  disease  could  not  be  controlled,  and  he  passed 
into  the  ''Great  Beyond"  when  he  was  seventeen  years  old. 

Fabius  Haywood  was  a  prisoner  at  Johnson's  Island 
at  the  time  George  was.  His  mother  wrote  him  Fred 
was  dead,  and  it  was  several  days  before  George  was 
allowed  to  speak  to  Haywood  to  ascertain  which  one  of 
his  brothers  it  was. 

Five  months  after  this  my  dear  son  was  born,  and  I 
gladly  named  him  Fred  for  his  gifted  young  uncle. 

LETTER  VIII 

Efforts  were  being  made  to  get  George  exchanged. 
I  begged  he  might  remain  where  he  was,  although  un- 
comfortable. He  was  safe,  but  he  was  finally  exchanged, 
and  we  were  very  proud  of  this  soldier  boy,  so  tall  and 
handsome  in  the  beautiful  Confederate  uniform,  trimmed 
with  gold  braid  and  bright  brass  buttons,  and  a  black 
plume  in  his  hat.  Well  might  his  family  rejoice  at  such 
a  son.     We  tenderly  lifted  the  brown  hair,  and  gazed  at 

22 


the  wound  a  little  to  the  right  side  of  his  head.  It  was  as 
long  as  a  finger,  and  as  wide,  and  the  bone  had  been  shot 
away.  Coming  into  a  hot  climate  the  sun  affected  the 
place.  In  vain  we  appealed  to  Dr.  Johnson  to  give  him 
a  home  appointment  during  the  summer,  but  he  would  not. 
He  was  as  merciless  to  his  own  son-in-law.  George  was 
sent  to  Richmond  to  fight  in  the  battles  which  were 
raging  around  there.  He  met  with  action,  was  taken 
sick,  and  sent  into  a  hospital,  from  which  he  issued  on 
that  fatal  16th  day  of  August  1864.  He  mounted  his 
black  horse  and  rode  to  death,  being  shot  by  a  mmne 
ball  just  over  the  heart.  He  fell  from  his  horse  ex- 
claiming ''I  am  killed,  boys,  but  we  have  taken  the 
works".  The  telegram  arrived  about  dinner  time,  and 
such  a  grief  stricken  family.  Your  father  went  on  for 
the  remains.  Mr.  Patterson,  a  clergyman  accompanied 
him  to  the  battle-field.  There  in  a  corner  of  the  fence, 
with  his  oil  coat  and  only  six  inches  of  dirt  to  cover 
him,  with  only  the  birds  to  sing  a  requiem,  and  the  leaves 
to  wave  in  pity,  lay  one  of  the  bravest  hearts  that  offered 
up  a  life  for  a  lost  but  true  cause.  He  was  brought  home 
and  tenderly  laid  by  the  side  of  his  young  brother. 

About  this  time  we  found  another  house  in  Raleigh, 
more  convenient,  opposite  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  we 
lived  there  until  after  the  surrender. 

Timies  became  more  gloomy,  and  when  the  poor  little 
Junior  Reserves,  boys  of  sixteen,  v/ere  drafted,  I  lost 
heart.  It  certainly  was  pitiful  to  see  the  dear  boys,  so 
hopeful  and  glad,  drilling,  and  marching  so  proudly  to 
the  tune  of  ''Dixie",  some  of  them  never  to  return  to 
their  mothers  and  homes. 

Raleigh  was  filled  with  soldiers  and  the  churches  and 
every  available  space  were  turned  into  hospitals.  Being 
nearest  I  visited  the  wounded  at  the  Episcopal  Church. 
Many  poor  men  were  on  the  narrow  benches,  some  in 
high  delirium,  some  with  broken  bones,  som^e  even  in  the 
agony  of  death.  A  young  soldier  of  New  Orleans  died 
just  then.  None  knew  his  name.  As  the  coffin  was  about 
to  be  closed  over  the  face  of  "Somebody's  darhng,"  an  old 
lady  shpped  forward  and  said  "Let  me  kiss  him.  for  his 
mother".  There  was  a  profound  silence  and  in  every 
eye  a  tear. 

Volumes  could  be  written  of  pathetic  and  heart  rending 
incidents  during  our  four  years  civil  war.  Death  hung 
like  a  heavy  pall  over  us,  food  and  clothes  scarce,  and  the 
merciless  foe  still  killing  our  men. 


23 


Although  we  were  becoming  less  hopeful,  yet  the  fall 
of  the  Confederacy  was  unexpected  at  last.  I  can  never 
forget  the  day  we  heard  the  sad  news.  It  was  after 
breakfast — a  bright  day.  A  number  of  ladies  and  children 
had  collected  in  the  public  square  around  the  capitol  in 
Raleigh.  We  had  heard  so  many  disquieting  rumors  that 
to  remain  at  home  was  impossible.  Suddenly  there  was 
a  great  commotion.  Some  one  said:  ''Lee  has  sur- 
dered".  Such  consternation  on  the  faces  of  the  people! 
Then  as  the  news  became  more  general  such  weeping  and 
wringing  of  hands!  Such  heavy  hearts!  Privation,  sor- 
row, death,  and  now  defeat  and  poverty! 

Soon  our  own  troops  began  to  pass  through;  weary, 
dirty,  hungry  fellows.  Everyone  that  could,  fed  them. 
They  were  not  allowed  to  stop,  but  as  they  passed  our  gate 
we  handed  them  bread  and  ham.  They  were  marching 
to  the  tune  of  ''Dixie",  the  war  song  that  we  vainly 
thought  was  to  lead  them  to  victory.  As  our  soldiers 
retreated  the  Yankees  pursued.  One  reckless  Confederate 
captain  from  Georgia  was  in  the  rear  guard.  He  turned 
and  fired  on  a  soldier,  then  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and 
would  have  escaped  but  the  horse  stumbled  and  fell, 
and  he  was  captured.  The  next  m.orning  under  a  guard 
of  soldiers  I  saw  him  carried  by  our  house  to  a  field  back 
of  your  grandfather's  home,  and  hung  to  the  limb  of  a 
tree  under  which  your  uncles  and  aunts  had  played  in 
childhood. 

My  mother  was  very  ill  at  this  time.  I  had  to  pass 
to  her  room  from  mine  through  a  passage-way  that  had  a 
glass  door  at  the  end.  It  was  about  three  o'clock  in  the 
night  when  she  called  me.  I  glanced  toward  the  door, 
and  peeping  through  was  the  face  of  a  red-haired  Yankee 
soldier.  I  was  frightened  so  I  could  hardly  stand,  and 
I  cannot  recollect  to  this  day,  which  door  I  finally  opened. 

We  have  cause  to  be  proud  of  the  war  record  of  my 
cousins,  James  and  Sam  Biddle.  Sam  entered  the  army 
at  the  age  of  seventeen  as  a  private,  and  finally  ended  as 
Captain.  He  was  in  the  battle  of  New  Berne,  and  was 
promoted  for  gallantry  on  the  field.  Jimmy  belonged  to 
the  First  Regiment  of  North  Carolina,  and  fought  through 
the  whole  four  years  of  the  war.  He  was  in  General 
Lee's  army  under  Stuart,  and  Wade  Hampton.  He  was 
in  the  battles  around  Richmond.  His  command  fired  the 
last  gun  in  the  war.  He  was  promoted  from  private  to 
lieutenant.     He  was  in  several  raids  around  Martinsburg 


and  Winchester,  and  on  one  occasion  his  commander 
captured  2,900  cattle. 

We  had  begun  to  get  quite  comfortably  fixed  in  our 
home  when  Raleigh  was  captured.  We  had  to  ask  for  a 
guard  or  our  house  would  have  been  sacked;  as  it  was 
everything  was  taken  that  could  be.  Our  fine  cow  was 
killed,  and  only  a  beef-steak  cut  from  her,  also  our  nice 
horse,  leaving  a  colt,  which  we  fed  from  a  bottle.  Every- 
thing from  our  small  farm  near  Raleigh  was  gone,  and 
the  negroes  free,  of  course.  With  two  little  children  I  had 
my  hands  full.  I  had  to  accept  a  lot  of  rails  which  were 
stolen  from  someone's  fence.  I  had  a  good  garden,  and 
sold  ten  dollars  worth  of  vegetables  which  I  gave  to  your 
father  to  return  to  New  Berne  to  see  if  anything  was  left. 
The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  get  Mr.  John  C.  Washington 
of  Kinston,  an  old  and  influential  citizen  out  of  jail. 

We  returned  home  in  the  Fall  and  boarded  on  George 
Street,  near  the  old  Palace  stables,  now  a  comfortable 
residence.  I  had  no  housekeeping  to  do,  the  winter  was 
mild,  and  I  spent  most  of  it  taking  walks  with  the  children. 

We  returned  to  Raleigh  for  the  summer,  and  then 
settled  permanently  the  following  fall  in  New  Berne 
paying  eighty  dollars  a  month  for  our  house. 

LETTER  IX 

In  January  my  pretty  name-sake,  Minnie,  was  born, 
and  that  winter  Judge  Bryan  and  family  of  Baltimore 
spent  six  weeks  with  us.  As  things  were  prosperous 
with  us  then  we  kept  carriage  and  horses.  The  horses 
were  named  Hampton  and  Ashby  after  the  Confederate 
Generals.  Stephen,  our  old  driver  had  charge,  and 
Nellie,  who  also  had  belonged  to  us,  was  nurse.  We 
moved  aeain  to  another  house,  and  it  was  here  that 
Sam  Biddle  died.  After  going  through  the  war  with  such 
credit  he  succumed  to  malarial  fever  after  only  a  few  days 
illness.  His  father.  Colonel  Samuel  Simpson  Biddle,  was 
the  gentlest  and  kindest  of  men.  I  have  the  most 
pleasant  recollections  of  him  during  my  childhood. 
Just  after  we  returned  to  New  Berne  at  the  close  of  the 
war  I  was  told  of  a  dream  a  northern  soldier  had  about 
the  brick  house  on  the  Clermont  plantation.  In  colonial 
times  the  place  belonged  to  Madam  Moore;  the  house 
was  a  very  grand  mansion  for  those  days.  Madam 
Moore  was  said  to  have  married  three  times,  once  for 
love,  once  for  money,  and  once  for  ambition.  She  was  a 
great  ''Lady'';  had  a  row  boat,  manned  by  six  oarsmen 

25 


dressed  in  livery  to  row  her  to  New  Berne.  She  went 
to  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  had  what  is  called  a  ''Stall". 
Washington  and  Monroe  occupied  seats  in  this  stall  when 
they  came  to  New  Berne.  This  plantation  afterwards  be- 
longed to  the  Speights.  Two  governors  of  North  Carolina 
are  buried  there.  But  for  the  dream — this  soldier,  who 
had  just  arrived  from  New  York  had  never  seen  this  place. 
He,  in  his  dream,  saw  the  house  clearly  before  his  eyes, 
and  was  told  to  go  into  the  cellar  and  look  behind  a  loose 
brick  in  the  fire-place  and  he  would  see  a  key;  to  take 
the  key— at  this  point  his  dream  was  inteiTupted,  but  he 
was  so  impressed  by  what  he  had  felt  that  he  obtained 
permission  to  visit  the  place,  and  found  everything 
exactly  as  he  had  dream.ed.  The  story  is  this,  that  the 
key  unlocked  a  strong  box  beneath  the  cellar  bricks,  in 
which  valuables  were  kept.  There  were  no  banks  when 
this  house  was  built,  and  rich  people  had  to  m.ake  a  place 
for  money,  jewels,  etc. 

There  is  an  incident  which  I  desire  you  to  remember 
in  these  pages.  The  capture  of  New  Berne  was  sudden 
at  the  end.  Fighting  was  on  the  Beaufort  road,  and  our 
soldiers  were  in  that  direction.  Word  was  received  to 
prepare  extra  food  as  our  soldiers  would  be  tired  and 
hungry.  So  there  were  very  few  homes  in  which  extra 
dinners  were  not  being  cooked.  Just  at  dinner  time, 
however,  the  tide  turned,  and  the  town  was  flooded  with 
Yankee  soldiers  ready  to  eat  all  the  good  things  prepared 
for  our  men.  Many  of  the  people  were  so  frightened 
they  ran  out  of  their  homes,  and  left  the  doors  wide  open, 
and  I  hear  the  enemy  had  a  royal  feast.  Everything  was 
at  the  mercy  of  the  foe.  Our  home,  of  course,  shared  the 
same  fate,  and  in  their  madness  books  and  furniture  were 
scattered  around.  Our  large  family  bible  was  picked  up 
by  a  sailor  who  took  it  to  New  Jersey,  and  it  was  put  on 
a  shelf  at  his  house  where  it  remained  many  years.  His 
sister  was  librarian  in  a  nearby  town,  and  persuaded  him 
to  find  the  owners.  A  number  of  letters  were  written 
and  finally  one  fell  into  my  hands.  I  wrote  and  received 
the  book,  and  have  given  it  to  my  grandson.  Jack  London. 
This  was  fifty  years  after  the  war. 

Reconstruction  times  were  horrible  in  every  way. 
Your  father  had  begun  to  practice  law,  but  it  was  hard 
work  to  make  both  ends  meet.  I  had  been  reared  so 
luxuriously  I  did  not  know  where  to  begin.  The  greatest 
heartache  of  this  trying  time  was  caused  by  the  fact  that 
my  feeble  mother  needed  many  things  I  could  not  afford 

20 


to  give.  Without  my  knowledge  she  sold  a  beautiful 
woven  white  bedspread  with  hand-made  fringe,  to  an  old 
auctioneer  for  $5.00.  It  would  easily  bring  a  hundred  in 
the  northern  markets.  One  day  I  went  to  see  an  old  colored 
woman,  Lucinda  Stanley.  She  had  been  old  Eubank's 
cook  and  had  fallen  heir  to  this  spread.  She  was  a 
very  respectful,  humble  servant,  and  I  have  always  liked 
her.  She  gave  this  spread  to  my  great  grand-daughter, 
Frances  Claypoole,  being  the  fourth  in  name  from  my 
mother,  and  when  Lucinda  had  the  little  girl  hold  out  her 
arms  and  receive  the  gift  I  was  touched  beyond  measure. 
Tears  came  unbidden  to  my  eyes  when  I  thought  of  what 
we  had  gone  through,  and  what  self  denial  we  had  prac- 
tised, and  after  fifty  years  I  had  learned  of  this  piece  of 
sacrifice  on  the  part  of  my  mother. 

The  after  effects  of  the  war  were  as  trying  as  the  war 
itself.  We  moved  several  times,  and  at  last  bought  a 
home  and  were  very  glad  to  move  there.  My  little 
family  consisted  of  Fannie,  Fred,  Minnie  and  Henry, 
and  in  1871  my  blue-eyed  son  Shepard  entered  the  family. 
When  Henry  was  three  months  old  we  moved  to  this 
house,  and  have  lived  here  ever  since.  The  cedar  trees 
in  the  yard,  and  the  beautiful  river  in  front,  and  the 
happy  voices  of  children  were  a  part  of  our  life.  Kate, 
Margaret  and  Isabel  completed  our  dear  family  circle. 

I  had  a  fall  before  Norcott's  birth,  and  sometimes  it 
was  quite  painful.  I  had  no  comfortable  rocking  chair, 
which  troubled  my  mother  not  a  little.  On  the  morning 
of  one  of  my  birthdays  I  found  a  nice  sewing  chair, 
which  in  her  pleasant  way,  she  presented  to  me.  Tears 
sprang  to  my  eyes,  and  I  exclaimed  ''Oh!  Why  did  you 
disfurnish  yourself".  She  had  a  gold  chain  several  times 
more  valuable  than  the  chair,  which  she  had  taken  to 
the  cabinet  maker,  and  he  very  willingly  made  the 
exchange. 

After  I  had  been  married  ten  years  I  lost  my  mother — 
the  most  intelligent,  affectionate,  patient  counsellor  that 
ever  an  impulsive  warm  hearted  daughter  had.  I  felt 
our  home  was  especially  blessed  having  had  such  a  holy 
woman  to  dwell  under  its  roof.  I  have  always  felt,  and  a 
sacred  feeling  it  is,  that  the  incense  of  her  prayers,  and 
the  holy  life  my  blessed  martyr  mother  led  has  caused 
God  to  smile  benignly  upon  us.  We  laid  her  tenderly 
away  in  our  cemetery  where  the  ashes  of  several  genera- 

21 


tions  repose,  under  the  cedar  trees,  and  amid  the  perfume 
of  violets. 

"No  sweeter  voice  from  human  Hps  e'er  issued 
Than  that  which  sang  low  cradle  hymns  to  me. 
I  hear  it  now  in  dreams,  sweet  Mother, 
And  shaken  with  sobs,  awake  to  weep  for  thee." 

LETTER  X 

The  after  effects  of  the  war  were  as  trying  as  the  war 
itself.  We  submitted  to  the  inevitable,  the  freeing  of 
our  slaves,  the  ruthless  destruction  of  our  valuable  farms, 
the  pillage  of  our  homes,  the  entire  loss  of  my  mother's 
large  estate,  and  after  all  this  if  we  could  have  been  let 
alone;  but  the  very  elements  seemed  to  conspire  to  ruin 
us.  The  crops  were  more  often  bad  than  good,  legislation 
was  against  us,  and  I  have  often  felt  as  if  there  was  a 
great  black  wall  in  front  of  me  behind  which  there  was  no 
light,  but  always  when  we  came  nearer  the  way  would 
open. 

Your  father  had  an  excellent  law  practice,  and  his 
family  never  suffered  for  anything,  nay,  I  do  not  know 
anyone  who  has  done  a  better  part  by  his  children.  A 
more  conscientious,  faithful  man  never  lived. 

As  I  look  back  on  a  long  married  life,  I  recall  many 
incidents,  both  laughable,  and  pathetic.  Many  things 
I  would  have  my  children  remember,  which  cannot  be 
put  down  in  these  pages. 

In  1877  the  most  beautiful  child  I  ever  saw  was  given 
me,  a  brown  eyed  boy  whom  we  named  Edwin  Speight. 
He  died  suddenly  of  cholera  infantum  when  he  was  six 
months  old.  The  shock  and  grief  of  his  death  so  affected 
me  that  I  had  the  first  serious  illness  I  had  ever  had  dur- 
ing my  married  life.  As  I  look  back  at  all  the  intense 
pain  I  suffered  during  a  long  illness  I  realize  how  much  it 
was  lessened  by  the  love  and  attention  of  my  dear  family. 
My  ever  faithful  little  nurse,  Minnie,  would  wait  by  the 
bed-room  door  in  the  morning  to  come  in  and  minister  to 
me. 

Fannie  was  at  school  at  Staunton,  and  Fred  at  Bing- 
ham's. I  had  been  sick  so  long  I  became  accustomed  to 
my  room,  and  looking  at  the  river,  and  did  not  mind  the 
confinement.  In  July  I  went  to  Beaufort  for  the  benefit 
of  the  salt  air.  I  sat  on  the  piazza  drinking  in  the 
life-giving  breeze  and  growing  stronger.  Kate  was  a 
httle  thing  of  six,  and  had  been  having  dumb  chills,  of 

28 


which  we  could  not  break  her,  so  she  and  Henry,  Jr. 
were  sent  down  to  me.  In  walking  on  the  wharf  one  day 
Kate  fell  overboard,  and  Henry  very  gallantly  jumped 
after  her.  He  had  on  a  pretty  blue  sailor  suit,  which  was 
not  improved  by  contact  with  the  salt  water,  but  the 
shock  cured  the  chills.  I  think  the  sense  of  obligation 
which  Henry  has  caused  Kate  to  feel  is  burdensome  even 
to  this  day. 

Life  jogged  along  for  us  as  it  does  for  many  families. 
Most  of  the  children  by  this  time  had  left  the  home-nest. 
Your  father  was  twice  elected  Judge  of  the  Superior 
Court.  This  left  me  a  good  deal  at  home  with  one  or 
two  of  my  dear  daughters.  I  still  led  a  busy  life,  for  he 
was  in  politics,  and  that  is  a  very  uncertain  life. 

At  first  I  went  with  him  on  his  Circuit,  and  did  enjoy 
the  mountain  districts.  In  going  around  to  the  different 
courts  we  stopped  at  Black  Mountain,  sixteen  miles  from 
Asheville,  and  were  charmed  with  the  quietude  and  the 
beauty  of  the  place,  so  much  so  in  fact  that  I  bought  six 
acres  on  the  brow  of  a  hill,  and  my  sons  and  your  father 
helped  me  build  a  dear  lodge.  Since  then  we  have  spent 
many  summers  there.  I  gave  the  place  to  my  five  daugh- 
ters, and  we  furnished  it  as  best  we  could.  We  dug  a  well 
of  delightful  water  through  the  solid  rock;  entertained 
company  galore,  sat  on  the  broad  piazza  and  viewed  the 
mountains — ''Seven  Sisters",  ''Craggy  Dome",  and  the 
numberless  automobiles  filled  with  people  on  their  waj^  to 
the  Blue  Ridge.  I  gave  to  my  eldest  daughter,  her  por- 
tion of  "Chestnut  Lodge",  and  you  can  read  in  the 
following  verses  how  she  appreciated  it". — 

"Do  you  know  you  have  given  a  beautiful  thing — 
Which  was  raade  by  the  hand  of  God. 

A  fair  lovely  cliff  with  a  wonderful  view, 
Of  valley  and  mountain  and  sod? 

You  have  made  me  this  gift  in  the  spirit  of  love, 
And  bade  me  to  build  there  a  "Home", 

The  son  and  the  daughter,  in  weal  or  in  woe 
The  gay  or  the  heart-sick  may  come. 

My  aim  is  to  rear  from  the  rocks  that  abound, 

A  foundation  in  soft  tones  of  grey. 
ril  hew  the  tall  pines  to  enclose  the  low  walls, 

A  home  where  my  children  may  stay. 

29 


Now  what  shall  I  call  this  sweet  restful  home — 

That  is  my  dear  Mother's  good  gift? 
The  name  of  all  others  that  comes  to  me  first, 

My  Mother's  own  name  ''Molly— Chff". 

We  visited  many  places.  We  had  a  lovely  ride  over  the 
Blue  Ridge  one  pleasant  hazy  day  to  Sparta,  Alleghany 
County.  The  vehicle  was  comfortable,  and  the  horses 
spirited,  and  the  beautiful  views  of  valley  and  mountain 
and  sky  were  pleasant  to  behold.  The  laurel  and  spruce, 
and  other  evergreens,  and  in  the  distance  sheep  and 
cattle  grazing  on  the  mountain  side,  and  the  little  homes 
nesthng  near  rocky  streams  or  springs,  are  indeed  a 
pleasant  memory. 

I  want  to  tell  you  something  of  the  life  of  my  aunt 
Annie  Norcott,  of  whom  I  was  so  forcefully  reminded  on 
one  of  my  visits  to  the  mountain  country. 

She  was  a  very  pretty  brown-eyed  girl — quite  a  belle 
with  the  boys  and  attracted  the  attention  of  William 
Bernard,  whom  she  married  and  with  whom  she  lived  for 
many  years  in  Greenville.  She  had  six  sons  and  one 
daughter.  This  girl  was  educated  in  Philadelphia,  and 
wrote  beautiful  letters.  Her  son,  Germaine  Bernard,  mar- 
ried JuKet  Gilliam  from  Pilot  Mountain,  of  whom  I  shall 
tell  you  presently.  During  the  summer  of  1918  I  paid  a 
short  visit  to  two  of  my  cousins,  Mrs.  Bernard's  grand- 
daughters, who  lived  at  Pilot  Mountain,  Stokes  County, 
North  Carolina.  I  found  them  most  intelligent  and  agree- 
able, and  they  told  me  many  interesting  incidents.  You 
all  know  about  your  grandfather  Norcott,  and  his  early 
struggles,  but  nothing  about  his  pretty  sister,  who  married 
Wilham  Bernard.  He  was  a  good  husband  and  took  excel- 
lent care  of  his  family.  He  was  from  Hyde  County — and 
his  father,  Germaine  Bernard  settled  there  in  a  rather  pe- 
culiar way.  This  Germaine  Bernard  was  a  young  man  from 
Bordeaux,  France,  and  was  coming  to  this  country  at  the 
time  Oglethorpe  settled  Georgia  but  when  of!  the  coast  of 
North  CaroHna,  near  Hatteras,  a  violent  storm  came  up, 
and  the  vessel  was  wrecked,  and  everything  lost.  Young 
Bernard  was  rescued  with  others,  and  found  his  way  to 
Hyde  County,  where  he  married  a  Miss  Fortisque. 
William  was  the  only  child  of  this  couple.  Mr.  Germaine 
Bernard  was  highly  educated.  He  could  speak  seven 
languages.  He  was  thrown  from  his  sulkey  and  killed 
while  driving  tandem.  There  was  a  small  settlement  in 
Hyde  County  named  for  him. 

30 


LETTER  XI 

In  February  1897  I  had  a  great  pleasure.  Your  father 
was  holding  court  in  Washington,  N.  C,  and  he  took 
me  with  him  to  revisit  the  loved  scenes  of  my  early  child- 
hood. I  went  to  the  old  home  around  which  clusters  so 
many  fond  recollections  of  my  baby-hood.  It  presented 
a  very  dilapidated  appearance.  I  could  hardly  believe  it 
was  the  same  place.  There  we  took  the  carriage  for 
Grimesland,  a  much  more  pleasant  mode  of  conveyance 
to  me  than  the  automobile.  One  of  the  greatest  pleasures 
of  this  drive  was  that  it  led  by  "Chatham",  the  colonial 
plantation  of  my  great-great  grandfather,  Gen'l  John 
Simpson,  and  the  grave  yard  where  he  and  his  wife  and 
many  of  his  children's  remains  repose.  It  is  on  a  hillock 
covered  with  grass  and  moss  a  century  old.  The  white 
marble  slabs  shine  faintly  through  the  shadows  of  the  old 
oak  trees.  Briars  and  tangled  under  brush  covered  the 
ground,  grey  moss  hung  in  graceful  festoons  over  this 
place  of  the  dead,  and  I  thought  what  a  record  of  hopes 
and  fears,  dreary  anticipations  and  pleasant  reunions,  this 
old  grave  on  the  hill-side  covered,  for  it  was  in  colonial 
times  these  things  occurred. 

Also  on  this  road,  near  the  Chatham  farm  is  a  his- 
toric house,  which  I  went  into,  and  was  greatly  inter- 
ested in.  Col.  Simpson's  son  was  cashier,  and  this  was 
a  bank  belonging  to  the  Crown.  ^  A  tremendous  brick 
fire-place  covering  almost  the  entire  side  of  the  house 
divided  into  two  large  chimneys  halfway  up.  Inside 
were  large  closets  in  the  brick  wall,  reaching  down  into 
the  cellar.  These  were  the  receptacles  for  the  valuable 
papers  of  the  Crown  and  bank.  This  wonderful  old 
house  is  now  occupied  by  negroes  and  going  to  decay. 

My  sons  were  doing  well,  and  my  sons-in-law,  so  I 
really  had  not  much  to  worry  over. 

There  were  so  many  of  us,  eight  children,  grand-chil- 
dren, your  father  and  I.  Death  and  disease  stalked  about 
the  land,  and  the  Death  Angel  visited  everywhere,  so  my 
heart  was  raised  in  thankfulness  that  we  were  spared,  and 
I  prayed  that  this  blessing  of  life,  with  grateful  hearts, 
might  be  vouchsafed  to  us  for  many  years  to  come. 

In  1900  your  father's  health  began  to  fail.  He  still 
kept  on  with  his  courts,  but  finally  had  to  temporarily 
retire.  We  went  to  a  great  many  doctors,  and  mineral 
springs,  but  without  relief.  On  the  advice  of  physicans 
we  went  to  Bedford  Springs  in  Pennsylvania,  passing 

31 


through  Baltimore,  where  I  persuaded  Judge  W.  S.  Brj^an 
to  come  and  join  us  for  a  month,  and  spend  his  vacation 
there.  I  felt  great  responsibility  with  such  a  sick  man  so 
far  from  home,  and  was  glad  to  persuade  my  brother-in- 
law,  who  was  bright,  encouraging  company,  to  be  with  us. 
How  strangely  things  happen  in  this  world.  To  think  of 
all  the  mineral  springs  in  the  country  we  should  have  been 
directed  to  this  one,  which  held  such  dear  memories  for 
me.  As  I  have  told  you  before,  my  dear  mother  was 
advised  by  Dr.  Johnson  of  Raleigh  years  before  this  time, 
to  go  to  these  springs,  when  I  was  only  eleven  years  old. 
The  journey  through  the  valley  of  the  Junietta,  is  a  fairy 
dream.  It  was  there  as  a  child  I  acquired  my  taste  for 
maple  sugar  in  the  quaint  little  village  of  Bedford. 
This  was  in  1851.  When  my  mother  and  I  left  there  we 
went  to  Philadelphia  where  we  met  friends,  and  stopped 
at  a  grand  hotel.  Mrs.  Reid,  this  friend,  took  me  to 
v/alk  with  her  one  Sunday  afternoon.  We  were  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street  when  a  number  of  Sunday 
School  scholars  came  out  of  a  church.  They  began  to 
look  at  me,  and  even  pointed  at  me.  I  grew  very  self- 
conscious  and  confused,  and  asked  Mrs.  Reid  what  was 
the  matter.  I  had  been  very  carefully  dressed,  and  my 
clothes  were  of  rich  material.  We  returned  to  the  hotel 
much  bewildered,  but  found  out  the  trouble  was  I  had  on 
pantalettes  (beautifully  made  with  insertion,  herring 
bone,  and  lace)  but  alas!  they  had  just  gone  out  of 
fashion,  and  I  had  not  been  in  the  city  long  enough  to 
learn  this. 

Well  your  father  and  I  made  this  journey  to  Bedford 
under  different  circumstances.  As  we  could  not  find 
room  at  the  hotel  proper,  we  stopped  at  a  lovely  place 
called  the  ''Armsdale''.  Here  we  had  a  nice  visit.  I 
met  Mrs.  Lyon  from  Baltimore,  with  whom  I  still  cor- 
respond. Your  uncle,  Judge  W.  S.  Bryan,  did  and  said 
all  kinds  of  funny  things,  which  I  enjoyed. 

After  our  visit  to  Bedford  we  went  to  Buffalo  Lithia 
and  Cleveland,  and  returned  home  to  find  your  father  no 
better.  After  much  consultation  we  decided  he  had  bet- 
ter go  to  Johns  Hopkins  for  an  operation  for  gall  stones. 
He  was  operated  on,  but  improved  slowly.  I,  of  course, 
was  with  him,  and  it  was  a  very  trying  experience.  I 
learned  much  of  hospital  life  and  saw  many  sad  cases,  and 
much  to  draw  upon  one's  sympathy. 

We  returned  from  Baltimore  in  February  1902. 
After  a  short  rest  your  father  resumed  his  official  duties, 

32 


and  he  displayed  a  great  bravery  in  going  from  court  to 
court  in  his  enfeebled  condition.  We  got  a  good  negro  boy 
from  Fayetteville  to  accompany  him,  and  this  boy  was 
very  attentive. 

Finally  he  declined  a  re-election,  and  came  home  to 
spend  the  remainder  of  his  days  by  his  own  quiet  fire-side. 
He  was  very  infirm,  and  one  of  us  always  accompanied 
him  on  his  walks.  He  was  paralized  twenty-one  months 
before  he  died.  I  had  a  rolling  chair  for  him.  He  would 
roll  up  and  down  the  broad  piazza  looking  at  the  beautiful 
Neuse,  dotted  with  the  white  sails  of  the  boats,  and 
greeting  passers-by.  He  was  very  patient  and  gentle, 
and  passed  away  the  morning  of  the  14th  of  February 
1919,  falHng  asleep  like  a  child.     He  was  willing  to  go. 

For  forty  years  we  had  had  no  death  in  our  family 
except  that  of  a  little  delicate  baby,  whom  we  did  not 
expect  to  rear.  At  the  time  of  your  father's  passing  av/ay 
our  best  beloved  and  most  beautiful  grand-daughter, 
Mary  Norcott  London,  was  lying  at  the  point  of  death 
from  that  awful  disease,  influenza,  at  her  home  in  Char- 
lotte. Her  husband,  Capt.  Edwin  T.  Cansler,  was  in 
France  with  the  army  of  occupation.  He  was  not 
allowed  to  return  to  his  home  until  his  bride  had  left  us 
forever.  On  the  18th  of  February  1919  God  took  her  to 
Himself.  She  was  twenty-four  years  old,  and  life  had 
held  nothing  but  love  and  happiness  for  her.  Everything 
has  changed  for  us  since  we  see  her  no  more.  We  try  to 
be  submissive,  but  we  can  never  feel  the  same.  May  God 
help  us. 

''Beautiful  toiler,  thy  work  all  done, 

Beautiful  soul  with  glory  gone. 
Beautiful  Life,  with  its  crown  now  won, 

God  grant  thee  rest." 

''Beautiful  spirit,  free  from  all  stain. 

Ours  the  heart-ache,  the  sorrow,  the  pain, 

Thine  is  the  glory,  the  infinite  gain, 
Thy  slumber  is  sweet.'' 

And  now  I  want  to  tell  you  of  a  happy  birthday  I 
have  had,  indeed  the  happiest  of  all  my  eighty  years. 

I  have  had  my  old  enemy  the  grippe  again  this  winter, 
and  it  has  left  my  heart  weak,  so  I  do  not  know  how  many 
years  I  may  count  on  in  this  beautiful  world  I  love  so 
much. 

On  this  birthday  I  had  four  of  my  precious  children 

33 


with  me,  and  four  away.  Telegrams  began  to  arrive 
before  breakfast,  and  letters.  Such  bright,  pleasant 
letters,  and  kind  messages.  Then  came  flowers!  By 
eleven  o'clock  the  house  was  a  bower,  and  so  many 
lovely  presents.  And  I  had  not  said  a  word  about  this 
birthday.  Scores  of  friends  called  during  the  day  to 
wish  me  ''Many  happy  returns".  At  night  we  had  a 
family  dinner  party  consisting  of  twenty.  Everyone  was 
so  kind  and  nice.  I  am  a  most  fortunate  old  woman,  and 
I  thank  God  for  all  the  love  that  has  been  lavished  on  me 
all  these  years,  and  a  million  times  for  these  children, 
grand  children  and  great-grand  children.  These  last  have 
made  me  young  again  with  them  and  been  the  delight 
and  joy  of  my  old  age.  I  have  had  a  very  comfortable 
life,  sunshine,  and  some  shadow,  more  health  than  sick- 
ness, more  kindness  than  enmity,  and  the  pleasure  of 
reading  so  many  charming  books.  My  eyes  have  served 
me  to  good  purpose.  I  am  deaf,  but  very  little,  and  I 
take  pleasure  in  everything  going  on. 

''To  the  life  we  are  clinging,  they  also  would  cling. 
But  it  speeds  for  us  all  like  a  bird  on  the  wing" 
"So  the  multitude  goes  like  the  flower  or  weed. 
That  withers  away  to  let  others  succeed. 
So  the  multitude  comes,  even  these  we  behold. 
To  repeat  the  same  tale  that  has  often  been  told". 

LETTER  XII 

These  letters  are  taken  from  one  hundred  and  fifty  writ- 
ten during  the  four  years  I  was  at  school  in  Richmond,  Va., 
and  Washington  City,  in  1854  and  '58.  My  mother  had 
married  a  second  time,  and  was  hving  on  a  beautiful  plan- 
tation called  "Monticello,"  ten  miles  from  Kinston.  The 
house  was  situated  in  a  large  grove;  two  huge  live  oaks 
guarded  the  entrance  at  each  side  of  the  gate;  and  a  flower 
garden  surrounded  the  house ;  two  vegetable  gardens  were 
at  the  back,  and  a  well  of  delicious  water  stood  temptingly 
near;  so  many  servants  about  the  house  they  were  in  each 
others  way,  and  a  little  maid  stood  at  the  back  of  her  chair 
to  pick  up  the  knitting  ball  when  it  was  dropped.  The 
horses  and  carriage  were  brought  to  the  door  everj^  after- 
noon for  a  drive.  Although  the  surroundings  were  so 
pleasant,  it  was  often  quite  lonesome,  and  company  was 
given  a  cordial  welcome.  I  remember  there  was  once  a 
"Primitive  Association"  held  in  the  neighborhood,  and  we 
entertained  a  number  of  the  delegates.  The  good  old 
preacher  was  asked  to  pray,  and  he  put  up  a  fervent 

34 


petition  for  the  ''King  of  the  House,  and  the  Queen  of  the 
Range."  He  had  never  been  so  far  from  home  before 
(thirty  miles),  but  he  was  told  he  would  ''Meet  with 
kindness  and  sure  enough  he  had." 

,^    _     .  Sweet  Spring,  Va.,  Aug.  1st,  1854. 

My  Darling  Mary, 

I  wrote  you  from  Petersburg,  Friday,  which  I  hope 
reached  you  Saturday  evening,  and  I  trust  found  you  well 
and  cheerful.     The  next  morning  we  took  the  cars  of  the 
South  Side  Railroad  to  Lynchburg,  however,  the  last 
eleven  miles  of  the  road  is  not  completed,  and  we  had  to 
take  the  stage  to  L.,  thence  by  Tennessee  railroad  to 
Salem,  sixty  miles  from  the  White  Sulphur.     As  we  arrived 
at  the  terminus  of  the  road  Saturday  evening,  we  passed 
the  Sabbath  at  Salem,  and  yesterday  morning  at  four 
o'clock  took  our  seats  in  the  stage,  only  ten  passengers, 
eight  inside,  two  on  top.     We  anticipated  an  uncomfort- 
able day,  and  were  not  disappointed.     The  road  took  us 
nearly  all  the  way  over  a  succession  of  lofty  mountains; 
there  seemed  to  be  no  way  to  get  around  them,  con- 
sequently they  had   to  be  crossed.     Our  nerves  were 
frequently  tried  at  the  dangerous  precipices  which  yawned 
so  fearfully  on  the  mountain  side,  yet  that  same  unseen 
hand  which  has  preserved  us  all  our  life  long  brought  us 
safety  through,  and  we  could  not  but  feel  grateful,  not 
only  for  protection,  but  also  that  we  had  been  permitted 
to  enjoy  the  view  of  these  magnificent  mountains.    Must 
say  the  views  we  had  yesterday  for  grandeur  exceed 
anything  I  have  seen.     On  our  way  here  we  learned  that 
there  was  such  a  crowd  of  visitors  at  White  Sulphur  that 
there  was  no  chance  of  getting  rooms,  and  feeling  greatly 
the  need  of  rest  we  have  stopped  here  for  a  day  or  two,  and 
have  sent  to  engage  rooms.     We  are  only  seventeen  miles 
from  the  W.  S,      This  is  a  lovely  spot,  and  very  much 
improved  since  I  saw  it,  just  seventeen  years  since.  How 
time  flies!     I  cannot  realize  that  the  16th  of  this  month  I 
shall  be  forty-two,  that  is  if  spared  to  see  it.     Yet  so  it 
is,  and  we  should  wisely  improve  the  precious  moments 
as  they  pass.     I  feel  much  pain  at  our  separation  my  dear 
child,  yet  conscience  and  judgment  both  tell  me  that 
I  have  done  right,  and  I  hope  you  think  with  me  and  will 
try  to  be  happy  and  satisfied,  and  improve  finely  in  all 
your  studies.     I  feel  very  anxious  to  hear  from  you,  and 
have  sent  over  to  the  White  Sulphur  for  letters;  don't  fail 
to  write  twice  a  week.     Your  aunt  Mary  is  somewhat  un- 
well with  cold;  she  will  soon  be  relieved  now  she  can  be 


35 


quiet.  Mr.  C.  and  uncle  are  quite  well.  I  am  mending 
slowly.  I  am  too  much  fatigued  to  write  you  a  long 
letter,  but  will  do  so  very  soon.  Tell  your  cousin  to  write. 
You  must  both  be  prudent  about  eating  fruit.  If  you 
have  any  news  from  cousin  Ann  Howard  let  me  know. 
I  am  very  fearful  we  shall  never  see  her  again,  and  how  it 
grieves  me  to  think  of  her  and  her  children.  Oh,  how 
much  they  will  love  if  their  mother  is  taken  from  them! 
But  God  knows  best,  we  must  leave  these  solemn  things 
in  his  hands.  We  all  join  in  love  to  you  and  Mary. 
Her  father  says  she  must  improve  rapidly  in  her  studies. 
Goodbye  darling.     May  kind  angels  guard  you. 

Your  loving  Mother. 

White  Sulphur  Springs,  Va.,  Aug.  5,  1854. 
My  dearest  Mary: 

We  rested  two  days  at  the  Sweet  Springs,  and  then 
came  on  to  this  place  the  next  morning;  had  the  pleasure 
of  receiving  your  of  July  28th.  I  was  delighted  to  hear 
from  my  precious  child,  and  especially  relieved  in  mind 
to  hear  you  were  tolerably  well  satisfied  and  getting 
interested  in  your  studies ;  hope  your  next  letter,  which  I 
am  looking  for  daily,  will  inform  me  that  you  are  still 
more  contented  and  getting  on  finely.  Your  uncle 
received  your  cousin's  letter  at  the  same  time  I  did  yours; 
he  will  write  soon.  Wednesday  night  when  we  came  over 
here  there  was  so  much  difficulty  in  getting  cabins  at  this 
place  we  stopped  about  one  mile  distant,  and  have  but 
just  obtained  rooms  and  come  down.  The  first  thing 
after  getting  the  baggage  arranged  is  to  write  to  you. 
This  place  is  somewhat  improved  since  we  were  here  nine 
years  ago,  and  there  is  a  great  crowd  of  people  here — at 
least  six  hundred  and  fifty.  About  the  middle  of  this 
month  the  visitors  will  begin  to  lessen,  and  will  continue 
to  do  so  until  all  leave.  The  water  thus  far  seems  to  agree 
with  me  very  well,  and  I  hope  for  great  relief  from  taking  it. 
Your  aunt  has  continued  to  suffer  with  cold  ever  since  she 
left,  and  is  quite  indisposed  from  it.  She  begins  to  think 
it  would  have  been  better  to  remain  in  Wake;  I  hope, 
however,  she  will  receive  much  benefit  before  going  home. 
Of  course,  I  have  not  had  an  opportunity  of  visiting  your 
dear  father's  grave,  but  Mr.  C.  and  Uncle  have  visited 
the  sacred  spot,  and  say  it  is  in  nice  order,  and  the  tombs- 
stone  the  best  in  the  graveyard.  Ah,  my  dear  Mary,  my 
mind  goes  back  with  so  much  vividness  to  the  sad, 
heart-stricken  time  I  had  here  nine  years  since,  and,  in 
imagination,   I  can  see  the  solemn  funeral  procession 


followed  by  only  two  mourners,  one  of  them  a  little  girl  of 
only  four  years,  who  little  knew  the  greatness  of  the  loss 
she  had  sustained,  and  who,  young  as  she  was,  tried  so 
earnestly  to  win  her  mother  from  her  grief. 

These  things,  darling  child,  your  mother  cannot  forget, 
and  too,  ever  since  you  have  lain  in  my  bosom,  the  strong- 
est tie  to  life,  and  my  dear,  my  love  knows  no  change, 
yet  I  do  believe  it  is  really  necessary  you  should  learn  to 
depend  on  yourself,  which  you  would  not  learn  if  con- 
stantly with  me.  So,  you  see,  duty  requires  us  to  do 
many  things  which  are  not  agreeable.  I  wrote  you  last 
Tuesday  from  the  Sweet  Springs,  this  is  Saturday  evening 
—two  letters  this  week— have  you  done  as  well?  Your 
letter  was  five  days  getting  here;  hope  mine  are  not  so 
long  reaching  you.  Now,  my  child,  I  must  urge  you  to  be 
prudent  in  every  respect,  and  when  you  write  tell  me  all 
about  yourself  as  to  health,  studies  and  everything  I 
should  know.  While  undergoing  so  much  fatigue  to  get 
here,  I  could  but  feel  glad  that  you  were  in  a  place  of 
comfort  quietly  pursuing  your  studies.  How  much  I 
would  prefer  home  to  this  summer  travel!  Your  uncle, 
aunt,  and  Mr.  C.  all  join  in  love  to  you,  and  Mary.  Let 
me  remind  you  that  both  should  not  write  by  the  same 
mail,  then  we  should  hear  from  you  oftener.  The  Lord 
bless  and  preserve  my  child  from  all  evil  is  the  prayer  of 

Your  affectionate  Mother. 

Monticello,  N.  C,  March  11th,  1855. 
My  dear  Mary, 

You  are  permitted  to  see  another  birthday,  and  my 
heart  is  filled  with  deep  gratitude  to  God  for  having  spared 
you  and  granted  the  many  blessings  which  have  crowded 
youi'  life.  Fourteen  years  have  swiftly  glided  by;  the 
period  usually  allotted  to  childhood  has  passed,  and 
you  are  now  entering  the  most  important  period  of  life, 
for  on  the  manner  in  which  you  improve  the  next  seven 
years  depends,  in  a  great  measure,  your  well  doing  in  time 
and  destiny  in  eternity.  You  have  hitherto  been  almost 
constantly  by  my  side;  as  yet  you  have  known  but  little 
of  the  responsibility  of  relying  on  your  own  discretion  and 
exertion.  The  time  has  now  come  for  us  to  separate,  and 
for  you  to  prove  that  the  lessons  so  constantly  given  have 
been  treasured,  and  that  you  have  fixed  principles  of  right 
to  guide  you  safely  through  the  many  temptations  and 
difficulties  which  may  assail  you.  I  do  not  think,  my 
dear  daughter,  that  I  need  urge  you  to  be  diligent  in  the 


37 


acquisition  of  learning;  the  pleasure  it  affords  us,  to  you, 
a  sufficient  inducement.  I  would,  however,  caution  you 
against  indulgence  of  novel  reading.  Now  is  the  time  to 
store  the  treasure  house  of  your  niind  with  useful  know- 
ledge, which  will  stand  3^ou  in  good  stead  in  the  years  to 
to  come,  I  desire  at  this  time  my  precious  child,  to  call  your 
attention  to  the  importance  of  improving  your  temper  and 
manners.  Now  is  the  time  to  bend  your  every  effort  to 
aquire  an  amiable  disposition,  and  that  sweet,  gentle 
dignity  of  manner  which  is  so  necessary  to  make  up  the 
character  of  a  refined  and  polished  lady,  and  which  also 
adds  so  much  to  the  happiness  of  the  social  circle.  The 
task,  which  I  so  earnestly  desire  you  to  undertake,  will 
not  be  the  work  of  a  day  or  month;  you  will,  perhaps, 
feel  that  it  is  difficult,  nevertheless  persevere  and  I  trust 
and  believe  success  w\\\  crown  your  efTorts.  I  must, 
however,  here  remind  you  that  in  our  weakness  and 
inability  to  overcome  the  imperfections  of  our  nature, 
and  to  strive  after  a  high  standard  of  moral  excellence, 
there  is  a  source  higher  than  earth  to  which  we  are  privi- 
ledged  to  apply  for  wisdom  and  grace  to  that  blessed 
fountain  opened  in  the  house  of  David  for  sin  and  un- 
cleanness.  I  would  point  and  urge  you  to  ask  wisdom 
of  God,  who  giveth  liberally  and  upbraideth  not.  May 
you  find  that  the  blood  of  Christ  cleanseth  all  from  sin, 
and  may  His  grace  enable  you  to  use  the  blessings  be- 
stowed ''as  a  wise  servant  who  has  to  give  account  of  the 
talents  committed  to  his  care."  To  you,  just  beginning 
life,  the  future  seems  beautifully  tinted  with  the  rainbow 
hues  of  hope,  the  future  looks  bright  and  fair.  I  would 
not  cast  a  cloud  on  your  pleasing  anticipations,  but  would 
remind  you  that  all  things  bright  must  fade;  that  this 
earth  is  not  our  abiding  place.  Already  many  of  our  loved 
and  cherished  ones  have  been  called  to  the  spirit  land,  and 
we  must  soon  follow?  How  important  then  to  have  the 
affections  placed  on  things  above,  and  to  be  able  to  say — 

Whatever  thou  deniest  0  give  me  thy  grace 
The  spirits  sure  witness  and  smiles  of  thy  face. 
Indulge  me  with  patience  to  wait  at  thy  throne 
And  find  even  here  a  sweet  foretaste  of  home." 

My  prayer  for  you  is  ''Lead  her  not  into  temptation, 
but  deliver  her  from  evil,"  May  you  my  precious  child,  be 
spared  to  see  many  returns  of  this  day,  and  each  one  find 
you  advancing  in  wisdom  and  holiness. 

Your  affectionate  Mother. 

38 


Monticello,  N.  C,  January  29th,  1858. 
My  darling  child : 

When  the  boy  returned  from  the  office  Monday,  I  was 
most  agreeably  surprised  to  receive  yours  of  the  twenty- 
second  instant.     I  had  been  feeling  very  anxious  about 
you  all  day,  and  it  was  such  a  relief  to  hear  my  precious 
Mary  had  passed  a  happy  week,  and  was,  as  I  inferred, 
in  good  health.     I  wrote  last  Monday  and  enclosed  a 
draft  to  Mrs.  Kingsford.     I  hope  it  reached  you  safely. 
It  will  soon  be  time  to  pay  for  the  second  half  of  the 
session,  which  Mr.  C.  will  have  it  in  his  power  to  attend 
to  in  good  time  as  he  has  just  sent  his  cotton  to  New  Berne 
to  be  shipped  to  New  York.     Just  think!  one-twelfth  of 
the  New  Year  is  nearly  gone;  time  does,  indeed,  pass 
rapidly  away,  and  how  careful  we  should  be  to  improve  it 
as  it  flies!     Let  the  duties  of  the  day  be  done  in  the  day, 
then  work  will  be  pleasant  and  you  will  not  be  over-tasked. 
Time  with  you  is  very  important,  and  you  must  not  let 
your  disposition  for  fun  and  amusement  draw  you  off  from 
your  studies;  at  the  same  time  I  don't  wish  my  darUng  to 
lose  her  cheerful  disposition  and  joyous  laugh.     I  am  very 
glad  Mrs.  Kingsford  is  so  kind  as  to  take  you  to  places 
calculated  to  interest  and  improve  you.     You  should  try 
to  profit  by  all  your  opportunities,  and  fit  yourself  to  be 
an  ornament  and  a  blessing  in  the  circle  in  which  you 
move.     Even  now,  you  should  try  to  do  good  by  setting 
a  good  example  to  your  associates.     Some  of  them  I  am 
sure  have  not  had  the  careful  training  you  have  had,  and 
a  word  in  season  might  do  them  much  good.     There  is 
your  friend.  Miss  Fox,  who  has  no  mother;  she  has  some 
good  traits  of  character;  persuade  her  to  try  to  overcome 
those  little  pets  of  temper,  and  she  will  be  so  much 
happier.     The    Good    Book   says    ''Greater   is   he   that 
keepeth  his  temper  than  he  that  taketh  a  city'\     Above 
all  persuade  her  to  ask  God  in  humble  prayer  to  give  her 
strength  to  do  right;  and  may  I  not  hope  that  my  precious 
Mary  seeks  earnestly  for  grace  and  wisdom  from  the 
same  source?     Have  you,  dearest,  ever  thought  how  many 
prayers  your  mother  humbly  presents  to  God  for  your 
conversion,  and  for  every  other  needed  blessing,  in  the 
course  of  one  year  at  only  three  a  day?    And  they  are 
much  more  than  that,  but  at  that  estimate  there  are 
more  than  a  thousand.     Recollect  this  when  you  are 
silencing  the  voice  of  conscience  and  putting  off  repentance 
to  a  more  convenient  season.     Now  is  the  accepted  time. 
I  pray  you,  then,  delay  not  to  seek  an  interest  in  the 
atoning  blood  of  our  blessed  Savior.     I  am  pleased  to 

39 


hear  that  Meta  J.  wrote  you.  It  does  indeed  seem  a 
pity  she  did  not  receive  your  letter  in  time  to  go  to 
Washington  City.  I  have  no  doubt  she  is  a  very  nice 
girl,  and  should  be  happy  to  see  her  at  our  house.  And 
Miss  Monroe  is  not  married;  she  is,  no  doubt,  right  in 
putting  off  that  important  step  to  a  more  distant  day. 
Mrs.  Ivy  from  New  Berne  and  Mrs.  Chappell  from 
Kinston  spent  two  days  with  us  this  week.  Mrs.  C.  has 
a  lovely  babe  six  months  old.  Your  cousin  and  Alice 
are  both  looking  well,  and  are  cheerful.  Of  course  they 
have  a  good  deal  to  say  about  beaux,  but  it  does  not 
amount  to  much.  It  is  a  settled  fact  that  our  anticipa- 
tions are  seldoni  reaHzed,  and  it  would  be  well  if  we  could 
refrain  from  building  too  many  air-castles,  which  so  soon 
vanish  at  the  realities  of  life.  To  the  well-regulated  mind 
there  is  always  enough  to  interest  for  they  do  not  live  on 
continual  excitement,  expecting  something  remarkable  to 
occur  to  make  them  conspicuous  and  envied  above  others. 
They  accept  with  gi^atitude  the  gifts  of  God,  and  enjoy 
all  as  coming  from  a  father's  hand.  Mr.  C's.  health  is 
better  this  week.  I  am  thinking  of  going  to  New  Berne 
tomorrow,  but  I  have  a  headache  today  and  may  put  it 
off  until  Monday.  Your  Aunt  Sue  does  not  improve;  I 
fear  she  will  always  be  an  invalid.  I  shall  take  Annie 
with  me  to  see  her  mother,  and  probably  bring  her  back 
again.  She  is  improving  in  looks  as  she  grows  older,  but 
is  not  nearly  so  pretty  as  Mary;  she  promises  to  be  a  rare 
beauty.  Little  Sue  is  a  darhng  too;  she  looks  very  sweet 
toddling  oyer  the  floor.  Your  uncle  is  very  much  opposed 
to  your  quitting  school  next  summer.  He  says  you  have 
•the  talents,  the  means  and  the  youth,  and  should  not 
think  of  leaving  school  until  you  are  eighteen.  Can  you 
hold  out  that  long?  If  you  can,  I  don't  know  how  I 
could  bear  it,  but  we  will  try  to  decide  right.  My  going 
to  Washington  this  winter  is  doubtful.  Mrs.  Parmerle 
and  Mrs.  Bernard  are  coming  to  see  me  quite  soon.  You 
have  not  told  me  how  you  like  the  bonnets  or  veil.  Do 
you  walk  every  day  when  the  weather  will  allow,  and  do 
you  wear  your  thick  shoes?  Your  letters  do  me  so  much 
good ;  how  I  long  to  see  you  to  imprint  some  loving  kisses 
on  your  dear  cheek,  but  I  must  wait.  William  had  a 
letter  from  Mary  Jabe  last  week,  all  were  very  well. 
Tell  me  how  your  health  is,  and  if  you  weigh  as  much  as 
when  you  left  home. 

Goodbye,  may  God  bless  you. 

Your  affectionate  Mother. 

40 


Monticello,  N.  C.  March  6,  1858. 
My  dearest  Mary: 

Your  dear  letter  of  the  twenty-fifth  ultimo  was  received 
Wednesday  while  I  was  suffering  with  a  most  distressing 
sick  headache.  I  sat  up  in  bed  and  read  it,  and  felt  that  it 
was,  indeed,  a  sweet  little  messenger  of  peace  and  love. 
Yes,   darling,   the  sentiments  expressed  are  such  as   I 
approve,  and  now  that  you  have  arrived  at  an  age  capable 
of  choosing  what  is  noble  and  elevating,  it  is  cause  of 
great  gratification  that  your  mind  is  satisfied  only  with 
goodness,  purity  and  truth.     I  was  pleased  to  hear  you 
enjoyed  the  levee.     It  must,  indeed,  have  been  a  rare 
treat  to  you  who  enjoy  novelty  with  so  much  zest.     But 
don't  let  the  President's  compliments  increase  your  vanity, 
for  you  must  recollect  he  is  a  bachelor,  and,  of  course, 
must  be  comphmentary  to  the  ladies.     Certainly,  you  had 
a  great  deal  of  social  enjoyment  for  one  week,  especially 
if  you  finished  with  the  visit  to  Mrs.  Clark.     If  you  went, 
I  hope  you  had  an  enjoyable  time,  and  not  too  many 
fascinating  beaus  about.     I  am  often  anxious  about  your 
health,  fearing  your  buoyant  disposition  will  be  the  cause 
of  imprudence.     I  felt  quite  relieved  to  find  the  levee  was 
over  without  causing  you  a  severe  cold.     Last  Monday 
morning  I  wrote  you  hurriedly ,  thinking  I  would  write  more 
at  length  in  a  day  of  two,  but  the  week  has  proved  one  of 
unusual  occupation;  so  much  so,  that  now,   Saturday 
night,  I  have  just  found  time  to  write.     Monday  morning 
Mrs.  Mitchell,  and  Miss  Seeley  left.     Their  company  was 
very  agreeable,  but  my  mind  was  so  divided  between  my 
desire  to  attend  to  my  guests,  and,  at  the  same  time,  not 
to  neglect  Mr.  C.  that  I  necessarily  felt  somewhat  reheved 
when  they  left.     The  next  day  I  received  very  polite 
letters    from    both    ladies.     Miss    S.    expressed    herself 
highly  pleased  with  her  visit,  and  hopes  I  may  soon  visit 
the  north  and  afford  her  an  opportunity  of  reciprocatmg 
my  kindness.     She  is  really  a  nice,  intelhgent  woman, 
Mr.  C.  has  been  in  bed  all  the  week;  he  sat  up  a  good  deal 
Wednesday,  and  aided  in  nursing  my  head  while  I  was 
suffering  so.     Fortunately  I  was  able  to  be  up  next  day, 
as  usual,  and  give  him  all  the  attention  he  required — I 
may  say  requires,  for  he  is  still  in  bed,  and  worse  last 
night  than  he  has  been.     Dr.  Woodley  has  been  out 
today,  and  says  his  is  a  case  of  chronic  hver  disease,  not 
very  dangerous,  but  I  expect  will  require  a  long  course  of 
treatment  to  effect  a  cure.     Mr.  C.  is  very  thin,  and  looks 
very  badly  at  times,  but  he  is  not  desponding.     It  grives 
me  to  see  him  suffer,  but  I  hope  he  will  be  spared  some 


41 


years  longer  to  be  a  stay  and  a  comfort  to  us  all.  Lizzie 
and  her  dear  little  boys  stayed  a  week  and  left  yesterday 
morning.  You  can  imagine  how  difficult  it  was  to  keep 
those  lively  boys  from  making  a  noise  to  disturb  Mr.  C. 
At  times  they  would  break  through  and  give  us  an  idea 
of  what  they  could  do  if  restraint  were  removed.  Just 
before  dinner  yesterday  Alice  Hilliard  and  Mary  Simpson 
came  up  to  meet  Rebecca  Powell,  who  is  going  down  to 
your  uncle's  to  go  to  school  to  Miss.  Rebecca  Owen. 
By  brother's  request  William  went  to  Goldsboro  and 
brought  Miss  Powell  down;  the  young  ladies  speak  of 
returning  tomorrow,  but  it  is  now  snowing,  and  the 
chances  are  in  favor  of  my  keeping  them,  I  feel  very 
anxious  to  have  time  to  write  you  a  birthday  letter,  but 
fear  it  will  be  rather  too  late;  however,  a  day  or  two  after 
will  make  no  great  difference.  I  have  been  thinking  of 
it  every  day,  but  with  a  house  full  of  company,  myself 
somewhat  indisposed,  and  Mr.  C.  sick  it  seemed  im- 
possible to  command  the  time. 

I  hope  darling  you  will  have  health,  and  every  other 
needed  blessing.  Remember  me  particularly  on  the 
eleventh.  My  prayers  and  feelings  will  be  with  you,  and 
I  trust  you  will  make  some  good  resolves  for  the  future. 

God  bless  you,  my  child, 

Your  loving  Mother. 

New  Berne,  N.  C,  April  21,  1859. 
My  precious  child. 

The  stage  was  so  late  getting  in  Tuesday  night  I  did 
not  get  your  letter  until  yesterday  morning,  which  seemed 
a  long  time  to  wait  for  it.  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  you 
have  been  sick;  what  was  the  matter?  I  hope  you  will 
be  prudent  for  health  should  be  highly  prized.  I  am 
troubled  about  your  going  to  Greenville,  and  now  say 
most  emphatically  that  I  do  not  wish  you  to  go  with  Mr. 
Latham  or  anyone  else,  unless  it  is  an  old  friend,  or  one  of 
your  cousins  could  come  down  to  go  and  return  with  you. 
My  darling  daughter  is  of  too  much  importance  to  be 
travelling  about  under  the  escort  of  anyone  she  can  pick 
up.  If  you  can't  go  under  proper  protection,  put  off  the 
visit  to  another  time.  If  I  were  able  I  would  come  over 
and  go  with  you,  but  I  have  a  fever  every  day  with  dis- 
tressing headache.  I  have  to  stay  in  bed  several  hours 
in  the  middle  of  the  day  and  merely  keep  up  the  balance  of 
the  time;  of  course  I  am  tied  at  home.  Your  absence 
begins  to  seem  very  long  to  me.     I  can't  say  I  am  willing 

42 


for  you  to  stay  until  the  middle  of  May,  but  give  me  rea- 
sons for  wishing  to  stay,  and  say  how  you  will  arrange 
about  Mr.  Bryan's  visit.  Another  thing — will  you  be 
treating  Sarah  Outlaw  right  to  stay  so  long?  You  will 
have  to  come  home  in  the  stage  and  I  ought  to  send  som- 
one  to  come  home  with  you.  I  don't  hke  you  to  have  no 
protection  but  a  stage  driver.  Let  me  know  how  you 
can  arrange  these  matters  for  they  cause  me  a  good  deal  of 
anxiety;  perhaps  Wilhe  Grist  would  come;  if  so,  you  should 
pay  his  way.  I  hope  you  enjoyed  your  letters;  I  will 
forward  any  others  that  may  come.  I  sent  one  to  Sarah 
Outlaw  from  C.  Hill  by  yesterday's  mail.  Mr.  B.  is  cer- 
tainly a  faithful  correspondent.  I  regret  to  hear  M.  is  so 
easily  pleased,  as  I  am  anxious  she  should  make  a  good 
match.  I  know  you  are  all  having  a  nice  time,  but  should 
think  you  could  be  ready  to  come  home  by  the  last  of  the 
month  and  give  the  "picnic"  up.  Dr.  Duffy  is  better, 
though  still  in  bed.  Your  Aunt  Lizzie  is  sick  now, 
but  I  hope  she  will  not  be  very  sick.  Sue  is  here  today  and 
while  I  was  up  stairs  lying  down  she  cut  up  a  supply  of 
postage  stamps  I  had  just  bought;  she  left  only  two. 
She  sends  you  a  kiss.  Mr.  Cuthbert's  handsome  goods 
have  not  arrived,  and  I  have  not  been  able  to  go  to  the 
stores  to  select  any  dresses  for  you  and  Mary  S.  I  will 
try  and  get  out  in  a  day  or  two.  Have  you  seen  Sister 
Fullerton  yet?  Do  go  to  see  her  as  often  as  you  can. 
I  feel  very  grateful  to  Mrs.  Permerle  and  other  friends  for 
their  kindness  to  you.  Kiss  Mrs.  P.  for  me.  I  hope  Mr. 
P.  has  returned  safely,  and  that  you  will  have  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  him.  I  don't  think  it  will  do  any  good  to  ad- 
vise M.  a  great  deal.  I  wish,  however,  she  would  not 
have  any  more  trifling  love  affairs  for  they  are  much  to  be 
regretted.  My  darhng,  I  am  lonely  without  you;  the 
house  at  times  looks  dreary  and  almost  desolate.  Then, 
at  night  I  want  you  in  my  arms,  and  have  your  sweet 
goodnight  kiss.  I  hope  the  stage  will  be  in  time  to  let  me 
have  your  letter  tonight.  I  would  like  to  see  it  before  I 
close  this,  but  then  it  would  be  too  late  to  get  mine  in. 
Write  every  mail  without  fail.  May  our  heavenly 
Father  preserve  you  from  all  evil  and  return  you  safely  to 
your  fond 

Mother. 


43 


n^ 


HENRY  RAVENSCROFT  BRYAN 

New  Berne,  North  Carolina, 

January  31st,  1912. 
Henry  Ravenscroft  Bryan,  sixth  son  of  John 
tage  Bryan,  and  Mary  WilHams  Bryan,  his  wife, 
was 'born  in  New  Berne  on  the  8th  day  of  March,  1836. 
I  was  born  in  the  brick  house  on  Pollock  Street  in  which 
my  Father  and  Grandfather  (James  Bryan)  lived,  situ- 
ated on  the  south  side  of  the  street,  between  Metcalf  and 
George.  My  parents  were  natives  of  New  Berne,  and 
were  married  there  on  the  20th  of  Dec.  1821  by  the  Rev. 
Richard  S.  Mason  of  the  Episcopal  Chuixh. 

The  name  of  my  Mother's  father  was  William  Shepard, 
son  of  Jacob  Shepard.  William  Shepard  died  in  1819. 
He  was  a  native  of  Carteret  Co.,  North  Carolina.  His 
wife's  maiden  name  was  Mary  Blount,  daughter  of 
Frederick  Blount,  and  a  native  of  Pasquotank  Co.,  N.  C, 
and  lived  on  the  Elm  or  Elmwood  Plantation  in  said 
county.  My  mother  was  named  for  her  maternal 
grandmother,  Mary  Williams,  who  married  Frederick 
Blount  (son  of  John  Blount)  April  5th,  1769.  He  was  a 
polished  gentleman  of  wealth,  a  planter  lawyer,  and 
intimate  friend  of  the  Colonial  Governor  Try  on.  Mary 
Blount,  my  grandmother,  was  born  in  1772,  and  was  buried 
in  the  old  cemetary  in  Raleigh  on  the  16th  day  of  October 
1864.  She  died  on  the  12th  of  October  in  her  93rd  year. 
Mary  Blount,  daughter  of  Frederick  Blount  married 
William  Shepard  on  the  12th  of  May  1794.  William 
Shepard  was  an  uncle  of  the  Biddies  of  Philadelphia — 
Nicholas  and  others.  CLYeL^ 

My  maternal  Grandfather,  William  Shepfegj^  w^as  a 
man  of  business,  and  large  property.  He  was  principal 
owner  of  the  famous  privateer  ''Snap  Dragon,"  com- 
manded by  Otway  Burns  in  the  War  of  1812.  This  vessel 
was  quite  successful  in  capturing  prizes  of  war.  Shepard 
owned  a  steam  sawmill,  located  near  New  Berne  on 
Lawson's  Creek,  and  much  real  estate  in  and  around  New 
Berne.  He  lived  in  a  large  brick  house  at  the  corner  of 
South  Front  and  Middle  Streets,  and  owned  property 
on  the  west  side  of  Middle  Street  down  to  the  channel 
of  Trent  river. 

My  paternal  Grandfather,  James  Bryan,  was  native  of 
Craven  Co.,  and  was  engaged  in  merchandise  in  New  Bern. 
He  owned  vessels  that  ran  to  the  West  Indies  and 
Northern  Points.     His  store  was  on  Pollock  St.  opposite 

44 


the  eastern  corner  of  the  Episcopal  church  yard.  He  died 
in  January  1806,  and  he  and  WilHam  Shepard  are  both 
buried  in  Cedar  Grove  Cemetery  in  New  Berne.  My 
paternal  grandmother  was  Rachael  HerVitage,  daughter 
of  Capt.  John  Herj-itage  of  the  Continental  Hne.  Her 
family  owned  a  plantation  in  Lenoir  Co.,  named  ''Harrow" 
from  Harrow  in  England.  Upon  the  death  of  her  first 
husband,  James  Bryan,  who  died  leaving  three  children, 
towit:  John  HerHtage,  Elizabeth  and  James  West,  she 
married  Dr.  Fred  Blount,  by  whom  she  had  several 
children,  Frederick,  Alexander,  Mary,  Caroline,  and 
Heritage.  Some  of  these  Blounts  moved  to  Florida. 
She  died  in  New  Berne  in  1840. 

My  mother,  Mary  W.  Bryan,  was  born  in  New  Berne 
Jan.  2nd  1801.  She  was  a  woman  of  very  strong  character 
had  a  good  education,  and  handsome  black  eyes.  She  was 
a  good  disciplinarian.  She  and  my  father  were  the  parents 
of  fourteen  children.  The  youngest,  Frederick,  died  at 
seventeen.  Thirteen  grew  up  to  maturity.  They  were 
attendants  upon  the  Episcopal  Church  and  well  instructed 
in  its  doctrines.  My  father  and  mother  were  much  given 
to  hospitality,  and  lived  in  much  comfort  with  plenty  of 
servants — their  slaves. 

My  father,  John  Hemtage  Bryan,  was  born  in  New 
Berne,  November  4th,  1798,  grandson  of  Col.  John  Bryan, 
an  officer  in  the  Revolution  and  member  of  the  Provincial 
congress  at  Halifax.  His  ancestry  on  both  sides  were 
prominent  in  the  life  of  the  colony  from  its  first  settlement. 
He  was  elected  to  the  state  senate  in  1823,  and  served  two 
terms.  In  1825  while  travelling  in  the  Northern  States 
for  his  health,  he  was,  unknown  to  himself,  elected  to  the 
State  Senate  and  Congress  on  the  same  day,  defeating 
Rochard  Dobbs  Speight  for  Congress.  He  was  the 
youngest  member  of  Congress.  He  served  two  terms  and 
declined  a  re-election,  desiring  to  devote  his  whole  time 
to  his  law  practise,  and  to  his  growing  family.  (See  his 
address  to  his  constituents  in  1829.)  Soon  thereafter  he 
dechned  an  election  to  Superior  Court  Bench.  In  1830 
he  delivered  the  commencement  address  at  the  University. 
In  1838,  in  February,  he  moved  to  Raleigh.  He  pur- 
chased a  house  and  lot  from  George  E.  Badger  in  the 
Northern  part  of  the  city,  the  adjoining  square  being  now 
occupied  by  the  Governor's  mansion.  He  was  a  man  of 
gi-eat  personal  popularity,  always  courteous,  polite, 
dignified,  strictly  honest  and  truthful.  It  was  said  of 
him  in  the  obituary  which  was  written  by  his  friend  Geo. 

Noin  :    //^  Ty{ta  OIL -[2^73    ) 


W.  Mordecai,  ''No  man  ever  doubted  his  word."  His 
appearance  was  fine  and  striking.  He  died  in  Raleigh, 
N.  C.  on  the  10th  day  of  May  1870. 

My  mother,  Mary  W.  Bryan,  died  in  Raleigh,  July 
13th,  1881.  They  lived  together  happily,  for  nearly 
fifty  years. 

At  the  age  of  six  I  started  school  in  Raleigh,  and  after 
several  years  entered  the  ''Raleigh  Classical  Mathe- 
matical and  ^Military  Academy"  kept  by  Jefferson  M. 
Lovejoy.  The  latter  part  of  May  1852  several  other 
pupils  of  Lovejoy's  and  myself  left  Raleigh  in  private  con- 
veyance for  Chai)el  Hill  to  be  examined  for  college.  In 
June  I  went  back 'and  became  a  member  of  the  Freshman 
Class,  consisting  of  fifty-seven  members  I  graduated  with 
first  and  second  distinction,  and  delivered  the  Latin 
Salutatory,  a  first  honor  speech  at  the  commencement. 
I  graduated  in  June  1856.  There  was  a  class  of  fifty  mem- 
bers. After  graduation  I  commenced  the  study  of  law 
with  my  father  in  Raleigh.  In  June  1857  I  obtained  a 
license  from  the  Supreme  Court  to  practise  in  the  county 
courts.  After  receiving  my  license  to  practice  law  I  went 
abroad  for  about  four  months.  We  were  ten  days  in 
crossing.  I  returned  home  in  September  1858,  and 
secured  an  office  in  Raleigh  opposite  the  present  post 
office. 

On  the  24th  day  of  November  1859  I  was  married  to 

MisVjVIary  Biddk  Norcott.     We  were  married  in  the 

brick  houseln'iNewBBrrTe  known  as  the  "Jarvis  House," 

on  the  south-east  corner  of  East  Front  and  Johnston 

Streets.     Rev.   Thos.  E.  Skinner  of  Raleigh  officiated. 

tS         After  marriage  we  took  a  bridal  trip  south.     We  re- 

i^turned  to  Bew  Berne  and  have  resided  here  ever  since. 

I  rented  an  office  in  about  a  year  and  entered  upon  the 

practice  of  law.     In  the  fall  of  1860  I  purchased  from 

James  and  T.  W.  Miller,  two  Northern  men,  the  old 

Speight"  planation  and  the  "Jim  Stanly"  land  adjoining. 

The  land  runs  from  Trent  River  to  Neuse,  containing  ac- 

>         cording  to  the  deed  1801  acres.     We  are  still  owners  except 

^*  a  few  acres  that  have  been  sold  off. 

^  ^  We  were  forced  to  "refugee"  up  country  during  the  war 
^  between  the  States,  and  while  there  two  of  our  children 
^^  were  born.  After  the  close  of  the  war  we  went  back  to 
I^  ^  New  Berne  with  very  little  to  live  on.  I  managed  to  sec- 
*  Cn  cure  some  rent  from  the  plantation  the  year  the  war 
ended.  I  got  about  twenty-seven  bales  of  cotton,  some 
^^  of  which  I  sold  for  52 J/^  cents  a  pound.     I  opened  a  law 


office  in  New  Berne.  With  this  and  rents  from  the 
plantation  we  managed  to  ''make  buckle  and  tongue" 
meet.  We  lived  in  rented  houses  for  several  years,  and 
on  March  29th,  1870  we  moved  into  our  home  on  the 
Neuse,  where  we  have  lived  ever  since. 

We  have  had  eleven  children  born  to  us,  a  list  of  which 
I  give  as  follows: 
John  Norcott,  born  October  3rd,  1860  in  Greensboro,  N.C. 

died  very  young. 
Sarah  Frances,  born  at  ''Company  Shops,"  N.  C,  March 

29th,  1862.     (Married  John  B.  Broadfott  of  Fayette- 

ville,  N.  C,  Oct.  15th,  1885.)  jDii.^ 
Frederick  Charles  born  in  Raleigh,  N.f  C,  May  3rd,  1864. 

(Married  Letitia  Allis  Williams  of  SvraG«|aMfew  Yprk,  < 

on  September  28th,  1907.)  l^^oU  cIp^W/   (Myhjt^ 
Mary  Norcott  Born  in  New  Berne,  January  20th,  1867. 


Henr^  j-vctvcii&ciuit,  uum  m  incw -uume,  uctnuciiy  j.sl,  loi\j.         ,^ 

(Married  Wilhe  Law,  of  Raleigh,  June  23rd,  1909.)-  tJx 
Shepard,    born    in    New    Berne,    December    8th,    1871, cZi^ 

(Married   Florence   King  Jackson   of  Atlanta,    Ga., 

Jan.  14th,  1909.)  ^ 

Isabel,  born  in  New  Berne,  April  5th,  1873.     Died  in 

infancy. 
Kate,  born  in  New  Berne,  May  2nd,  1874. 

(Married  Franl^  S.  Duify  of  New  Berne,  April  5th, 

1899.)  c^cj^^  /jee.  8//^y^-^ 

Margaret  Shepard,  born  in  New  Berne{  December  1st, 

1875. 
Edwin  Speight  born  in  New  Berne,  March  19th,  1877. 

Died  iainfancy. 
Isabel  Constance  born  May  10th,  1879  in  New  Berne, 

(Married  Edwin  H.  Jordan,  Loudon  County,  Virginia, 

November  16th,  1905.) 


Three  children  have  died  in  infancy,  eight  now  remain 
and  are  a  great  comfort  in  the  declining  years  of  their 
parents. 

The  shadows  are  getting  very  low,  particularly  for  me. 
The  days  of  the  years  of  my  pilgrimage  are  seventy  and 
six  years.  My  wife's  age  is  seventy-one.  She  was  born 
on  the  11th  day  of  March  1841.  f 


I  have  filled  a  few  offices  during  my  uneventful  life. 
I  have  been  Justice  of  the  Peace,  attorney  for  A.  &  N.  C. 
Railway,  and  for  the  Board  of  County  Commissioners, 
and  also  for  the  City  of  New  Berne,  and  Mayor  of  said 
city.  Presidential  Elector  and  in  the  Electoral  College 
voted  for  General  Winfield  S.  Hancock.  I  have  been 
judge  of  the  Superior  Court  of  North  Carolina.  I  was 
on  the  bench  for  sixteen  years  (two  terms)  and  at  the  age 
of  seventy-one  years  retired,  my  term  having  expired. 
I  have  been  all  over  the  state,  and  held  court  in  every 
county  several  times.  I  served  the  state  during  my  term 
to  the  best  of  my  ability,  and  endeavored  to  administer 
justice  without  fear,  favor,  or  affection. 

I  have  never  in  that  high  and  responsible  office  done 
other  than  my  duty  as  I  understood  it.  My  career  is 
now  nearly  closed,  and  I  will  soon  be  gathered  unto  my 
fathers,  and  required  to  give  an  account  of  the  deeds  done 
in  the  body. 


48 


00032193929 

This  book  must  not 
5  taken  from  the 
brary  building. 


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